Word: bursting
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Dates: during 1940-1949
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...siding at Halifax, N.S. In the observation car sat a pudgy little man in a visored naval cap, a cheroot in his mouth, his horn-rimmed glasses focused on a newspaper. Outside, a huge crowd swirled and pushed, straining against police lines. The crowd, dressed in its Sunday best, burst into song: first, Roll Out the Barrel; then There'll Always Be an England. Finally, the pudgy man, not relinquishing his cheroot, shuffled to the rear platform, acknowledged the crowd's cheers, and asked for Tipperary. The crowd gave it to him, while Winston Churchill beat time...
...only road which the troop can take, and , which it is now holding. That is, the sergeant morosely explains, the Huns' artillery can fan a fly's tail in mid-flight if it is so foolish as to venture up the road. Now and then a burst of gunfire, flatter and nearer than the noise of the S.P.s signals a sally of German heavy tanks from Sauzette. They sneak out, fire a few rounds at our lighter armored cavalry cars and tanks, then rush back to cover under bursts of our noisy but ineffective reply." Somewhere along that...
...rest of the family-Papa, who had put his savings into this farm, Mama, a scraggly woman who was calmly assembling the dejeuner, a leggy boy of 16 or so and a baby girl-chattered in the passageway, and fell silent only when a soldier passed or a shell burst...
...hours. His tired old-young face, lean as a shell splinter, mirrored his doubt, his brief hope that he could hold, and finally his resolve to save what he had left for another day. He made that decision only after an infantryman from the fragile line near the town burst into the C.P. His face was bleeding slightly, his eyes were glazed. He could hardly talk until the troop medico had patched and soothed him. Then he said, still stammering, that German tanks had broken into the infantry line...
...dropsical frogs ... the aphrodisiac parasite that covers the ground with dead insects, the disgusting blooms that throb with sensual palpitations. . . . Stretched from tree to palm in long, elastic curves, like carelessly hung nets [the lianas catch] falling leaves, branches, and fruits, [hold] them for years until they sag and burst like rotten bags, scattering blind reptiles, rusty salamanders, hairy spiders . . . the comejen grub gnaws at the trees like quick-spreading syphilis . . .; everywhere is the reek of fermentation, steaming shadows, the sopor of death, the enervating process of procreation...