Word: complexities
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Dates: during 1940-1949
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Armour is conducting its own research in the hope of increasing the supply, said Mote. If the complex structure of the ACTH molecule can be determined, he hopes to be able to stop making it in minute quantities from hogs' heads, and start to synthesize it by the hogshead. Until then, the millions of sarthritics and the countless sufferers from gout and a dozen other diseases must live in hope...
Reichart studied data on the complex machine at his little factory, then called for what he needed. Businessmen donated steel barrels and alcohol drums, plywood, motors and parts from vacuum cleaners, small crankshafts from outboard motors. Employees volunteered their labor and worked all night. After ten hours the lung was ready for Rue Steel. The mechanical minutemen kept on, making seven more, and Reichart drew blueprints from which any small-town machine shop could put together an emergency lung...
...lugubrious little man for whom life has suddenly become unbearably complex, Mickey sat up in his hospital room in powder-blue pajamas, his arm strapped up in a sling. Snapped Mickey: "I set myself up four nights in a row as a clay pigeon. [Attorney General] Howser must have had a hell of a tip." He was sure it was not a local bookie ("Every bookie in this town is a very close personal friend of mine," said Mickey firmly), nor imported Eastern gunmen. "I call New York, Chicago and Cleveland regular," said Mickey. "I'm a well-informed...
...slang, and there is an Omo chief in the book who suffers from "a slight guilt complex." But, by and large, this is hot, strong stuff, and not since Elinor Glyn and Ethel M. Dell has a writer put in her thumb and pulled out the sort of plum this pie is full of (e.g., "He had cut her open with a sword, but she was too proud to let him see the bleeding...
...customers who still did not get the pitch, the program notes explained: "Dali sees the whole romantic philosophy of Wagner as an uninterrupted complex of impotence. An exasperating procession of wheelbarrows, heavy with the earth of reality, struggling up toward the inaccessible heaven of the ecstasy of love, at the summit of which there is only a precipice-love in death and death in love . . ." Only the New Statesman and Nation had the wit to smile at such Daliance and say the sanest thing heard in the hubbub: "How odd that people should have taken Mad Tristan ... so seriously...