Word: breath
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Dates: during 1930-1939
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...poet, doctor, and senator of the Irish Free State, has been the intimate friend of George Moore, Yeats, "A. E.," Synge, James Stephens, and James Joyce, his famous fellow-townsmen. Despite the brilliance of this company, Gogarty always fascinates his friends. When he talks, piling imagination with breath-taking invention, they listen and remember. One of his companions describes him as "overflowing with wit, gaiety, laughter, and Aristophanic joy." It was in Gogarty's garden that George Moore conceived the idea for "Ave, Salve, Vale." An apple tree in Gogarty's garden was the inspiration for Moore's "Tree...
...event inaugurated just last year, the 150-yard medley swim, brought the entire natorial competition to a breath-taking finale, when B. S. Wood '33, trailing behind E. E. Stowell '34 until the last length, eased himself into the lead to win by a split-second margin. In the 100-yard back stroke event, C. W. Breed '36 set up a new tournament record when he covered the distance in 1 minute, 5 2-5 seconds...
...Napoleon's bull-neck as he concluded his tirade. "You have never worthily performed a single duty. You have betrayed and deceived everybody. You would sell your own father. You are a mess of dung in a silk stocking." The Emperor stopped, red-faced; he was out of breath. For half an hour Talleyrand had leaned, graceful and impassive, against a small table by the fire. Now he moved. Slowly, easily, he limped across the great carpet and paused at the white paneled doors. "What a pity," he remarked, "that such a great man should be so ill bred." Quietly...
...five confused seconds the fusillade was over. The crowd was roaring, "GET THAT MAN! GET HIM!" An avalanche of spectators and police smashed down on small Joe Zangara, buried him under a mill of arms, legs and bodies. Down with him also went nervy little Mrs. Cross, the breath knocked out of her 100-lb. body. Handcuffs were forced on Joe Zangara's wrists. Furious hands clamped his arms and neck...
Irela has refused to face the fact that she is about to sing her operatic swan-song. No longer can she reach her high notes without taking a second breath but the reappearance of an ancient lover reminds her of the departed days when the students of St. Petersburg unhitched her horses and dragged her carriage through the streets. It takes the competition of a Spanish singer and a paralytic stroke to bring home the crushing truth: that she must henceforth pass her days in "farewell tours" singing numbers like "Comin' Thro' The Rye." Creditable indeed...