Word: brisking
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ABCs pays scant attention, however, to such grim issues as the rapid rise of HIV and AIDS in Russia or to the country's continued reliance on abortion as the preferred form of birth control. Perhaps because of this, book sales have been brisk and the publisher is talking about a second printing. Zhirinovsky announced last week that he'll soon run for governor of a Russian region--which one remains to be announced. Then he flew off to Libya, his fifth visit to pal Muammar Gaddafi in the past year...
...time spent in the labyrinthine Leverett Towers, which, let's just say, were brisk at night, inspired a different kind of enthusiasm, one which had more to do with not being in college anymore than it did with imagining, if only briefly, an America full of Jews and Asians. This is to say that being at Harvard for academics when Harvard is not in session--when the libraries are operating on limited hours, the dining halls are closed, and, yeah, The Crimson is not coming out--is a different experience from being here during the semester, and different...
...Clinton still hoped that once he got back home there would be time to sit down with House G.O.P. centrists and bid for their support. But the strain was building. At his joint press conference in Jerusalem with Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu, his answers were weary and sometimes brisk to the point of anger. And now his aides were telling him that impeachment, which everyone believed was impossible just a few weeks earlier, was inevitable. Undecided Republicans were falling into the party line...
...insisted on a brisk walk every morning around Washington, striding out at his old soldier's pace while newsmen scrambled to keep up. He was a natty dresser, ate sparingly and never got overweight, loved a hand of poker and a good joke. He doted on his wife Bess and daughter Margaret, an aspiring concert soprano. His pleasures and his wants were simple. When his presidency was finished and he arrived back in Independence, Mo., reporters asked him on his first day home what he intended to do. "Carry the grips up to the attic:" he replied...
Winter was coming. I could feel it in my bones as I left The Crimson. With no hat and only a fall jacket, I was feeling a little out of sorts as I cursed the Massachusetts weather and tried to keep my walk along Mass. Ave. as brisk as the biting wind. I detoured through the Yard with my head down and my mouth muttering. Near the Yard's exit, I was cut off by a group of French-speaking tourists. I tried to make my way through the crowd without so much as lifting my head. One boy, however...