Word: cante
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MISS EARHART STULTZ GORDON BURRY BASIN WALES (COLLECT) IF YOU NEED IT ANY NEW SUITS SEE MY FRIENDS JULES ROSENWEIN AND MOE EINSTEIN PETTICOAT LANE STOP MENTION MY NAME STOP FIRST CLASS GOODS STOP YOU CANT GO WRONG STOP
...which I have for some time subscribed should lower his magazine by allowing some member of his staff to vent his jealousy and malice on men, who, being unnamed, cannot defend themselves ... is inconceivable. If the writer of this paragraph is not a hypocrite, who is? Such sickening cant is unworthy of the attention of any sane and intelligent reader-an uncalled for affront to men of a friendly nation, which could only rouse contempt and resentment. The utter caddishness of the writer is ... apparent. JULIA L. TERRY...
...solemn serenity and serious sobriety returned in another persuasion. Our ancient rivals opened their hearts and larders to us in no uncertain fashion. It is a great place. The traditional intellectuality of Harvard seems to have reached that point in its life cycle which is best characterized by the cant term of decadent. They are over the peak. Their manners and personal graces are those of the Restoration, their collective temperament a shade in the direction of Baudelaire. A more charming bevy of wastrels is not to be found, or a more hospitable. Many interesting points of contrast between them...
...loosed the flight of slings and arrows at the ex-marine have been Heywood Broun, Louis Bromfield, Sinclair Lewis and H. L. Mencken. "One has only to contrast the interviews given by these two men, Dempsey and Tunney; one simple and profound, the other a mixture of bombast and cant," says one decrier of the literary note in Mr. Tunney's public statements. "A pugilist reading Hegel is about as appropriate as the dean of a woman's college singing. 'I'm Gonna Dance Wit' the Guy What Brung Me' says another. Unless he wishes to go down in history...
Secrets. A slender, partly bald little man with a bristling mus- tache, last week carried a mass of official-looking documents to a va- cant lot in Denver, tore the papers to tatters, heaped them high, squirted them with kerosene, touched off a match and cried out over the flames: "Do you think I want homes in Denver ruined? . . . All you poor girls, you troubled women, who have given me your confidence that I might help you, rest now in peace. Your secrets are safe...