Word: cloud
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Dates: during 1920-1929
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...anyone who so accused her was attempting to blacken her reputation the defense now turns a complete somersault and tacitly admitting the possibility, even the probability, of such a move, argues that the action does not constitute a crime. Socrates himself could not have more cleverly retreated from a cloud of threatening evidence; even Gratian would have been forced to admire the constitutional genius who prepared the briefs for the case. No matter what the eventual outcome is (and with this latest coup an imminent outcome grows even less likely) one may well congratulate the chief of the Four-square...
...dissatisfaction with the party in power. Responsible for the hope of the Democrats in Indiana, is a story filled like a cinema with incredible wild flashes . . . a searchlight fumbling over an army of marchers in white hoods . . . an airplane with a gilded nose tilting out of a cloud . . . a bed in a poor house, something dead on the bed . . . old checks, thumb-marked, rubber-stamped, checks for enormous sums made out in furtive or in precise or pompous or illiterate calligraphies to a person named "Stephenson". . . . A man hissing through the disinfected bars of a prison cell a word...
...just at the moment being a forecaster is hard enough. What with Yale and Dartmouth. Princeton and Navy, etc., I become convinced that the forecaster's heyday is the first two weeks in October. Most forecasters, that is. But not I. "The blacker the cloud, the silverer the lining," was graven on the Forecast coat of arms centuries ago when the first Baron Forecast was Lord High Grave-Digger in Waiting for the wives of Henry VIII. And that's the way I am. So paste these in you hat until you read your Sunday papers...
Last week honest Umpire Pat McTavey peered anxiously into a cloud of dust on a home-plate just outside of Long Island City, N. Y. Up jerked his thumb. "Out!" he shouted. The home team had lost. Disgruntled fans shrieked, "Kill him! Kill the umpire...
...lined boots; with four pairs of mittens-paper, silk, wool, fleeced leather-and wool-edged goggles to keep his eyeballs from freezing, Pilot Jean Callizo climbed up and up from Le Bourget airdrome, near Paris, in his specially fitted altitude plane. It was late afternoon, with a high ceiling (cloud level). Picking a hole at 2,000 metres (about 6,600 ft.) Pilot Callizo steered up for "the edge of heaven." Beyond the clouds was fair weather...