Word: chatteringly
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...When you are down on your knees and scrubbing, this world of voices seems to lie a great distance above your head. You feel like a little child again, as a child takes for granted that there are bigger people always above her. . . . My muscles are working while they chatter, while they pose, disarranging their lives, striving perpetually to get things straight, yet merely disarranging matters more; while I, I am the person who is constantly straightening things out, keeping life fit to live...
Once in the dining hall, Vag's momentary Plympton Street apprehensions were allayed. Above the chatter about Chem A, exam schedules, and the end of the Wellesley spring vacation, could be heard the magic words Durocher, MacPhail and Williams. Even Cambridge was a part of America. Hastily digesting his chipped beef on toast, Vag raced into the House courtyard, scooped up an imaginary ground ball, and made a perfect throw to first base. He made a mental note to cut his Tuesday lab, and maybe his 10 o'clock class as well. After all, it was opening...
Warm sun, a relatively dry field, and a trace of real baseball weather in the air lured the batsmen into the great outdoors, along with a sprinkling of team uniforms, baseball chatter, and interested onlookers. Practice Monday and prior to the vacation road trip was held in the dusky confines of Briggs Cage...
Since science can now distinguish the incurably sick from the curable, mercy killing is justified-so goes the chatter in cocktail bars. The naked, woolly-haired Nuba tribesmen who live in the Otoro Hills, deep in the Anglo-Egyptian Sudan, did not wait for the cocktail-bar moralists; the Nuba have been euthanasians since way back. Once they are sure that a tribesman is possessed of a djinn (evil spirit), they bump him off. Everybody (in the Otoros), of course, is quite certain that djinns inhabit the bodies of the lame, the deaf and the dumb...
...Chatter & Curiosity. When the whim takes him, Dadswell goes to sea, works in the black gang or deck crew, returns with human-interest yarns that set him solid with his plain-folks readers. He has none of the synthetic open-eyed wonder of the late O. 0. Mclntyre, or the troubled sympathy of Pyle. Says Dadswell: "I always have a specific story in mind when I make a trip. Soon I am going to Cuba to find out if Sloppy Joe's is really sloppy and if a guy named Joe really runs...