Word: breds
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Dates: during 1970-1979
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This naturally bred in me the sense of feminine powerlessness. Consciously my mother's dependence frightened me. I thought my father had the better life. So I emulated his independence. I became a tournament tennis player and traveled the national circuit for nine years. But the feeling of impotence and submission vis-a-vis the world breeds a guilt for any form of success achieved in that world. I would go to bed each night with a knot in my gut, sick with the pressure of having to sin the next day. Winning itself was rarely more than a breath...
Most importantly, the political vision of the movement was correct. In the final analysis, the social hatreds which bred the movement and of which it became a part will be eased only through further extensions of political democracy, through redistribution of wealth, and through increased democratic control over the economy and especially the workplace. Somehow, the 82 million Americans who struggle to get by on $5,000 to $10,000 a year must be brought together with the very poor who have to make do with even less, in a movement for democratization which will benefit...
Horse racing history is, in fact, full of brilliant and expensive matings that have gone wrong. Champion mares bred to champion stallions have dropped foals that resembled neither parent in any respect except having four legs; the offspring have been pigeontoed, rough-kneed, cow-hocked, swaybacked, puny, soft-boned and wind-broken...
With Biochemist David Gutnick, Rosenberg isolated a genus of bacteria called arthrobacter, which feast on crude oil, and then developed a particularly fast-multiplying new strain, which they named "RAG-1."* Bred in salt water enriched with phosphorus and nitrogen compounds, the strain gobbles up the paraffin (waxy) content of crude oil, leaving only small droplets of dewaxed oil that break down quickly in nature and become harmless carbon dioxide and water...
...desperate moments, mouth-to-mouth sessions with a girl reporter. Craig also broods about his past (he has been an s.o.b. to a lot of little people) and agonizes over his future. His soul-searching is sup ported by a pulpy cast that includes his own Antonioni-bred daughter, his Irish agent, an embittered ex-screenwriter, an aging movie mogul, several leering French waiters and - since this is Cannes - a falling-down-drunk film critic...