Word: crisp
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Toronto to Tasmania. For a few moments in the first round, men who had bet on Moore could still tell themselves that their money was safe. Archie's shuffling, flat-footed style seemed to be keeping him out of trouble. He even landed a couple of crisp rights. Maybe he was pacing himself. But Patterson kept crowding in. His fast hands, held high and dashing as a hummingbird, punished the old Moore flesh, and all of a sudden the countless battles Archie had fought, from Toronto to Tasmania, seemed to catch up with him. The starch leaked...
...love story of Bells Are Ringing is almost defiantly orthodox, but suffused as it is with Judy's warmth, never really becomes a burden. But it does bulk much too large for wit to keep pace with sentiment, for the Comden-Green book to display the usual fresh, crisp Comden-Greenness...
Bedraggled and mud-soaked, footsore and soul-worn, the first planeload of Hungarian refugees debarked into the crisp free air of New Jersey. A few carried cardboard suitcases holding the residue of the past. Weary men in caps, somber-faced women in babushkas, children suddenly aged, paraded into the warmth of American hands. As the U.S. Army Band played Brahms's Hungarian Dance No. 5 hundreds of waiting Americans wept...
...brilliant gold beeches, scarlet oaks and russet maples splashed their color against a green pine background as Virginia last week gloried in its autumn. Near Warrenton, the horn rang clear in the crisp dawn to summon pink-coated hunters. In the sandy jack-pine country near the North Carolina line, warehouses bulged with the Bright Tobacco that enriched Virginia by $84 million last year. In southside Virginia, below Richmond, jets of ocher-colored steam spewed from National Aniline's new, modernistic chemical plant. In Williamsburg, tourists moved quietly, reverently, through shrines that attest to Virginia's historic leadership...
...intelligence jigsaw puzzle, the President ducked out of the White House for a breather. In his twin-engined Aero Commander he flew to his farm at Gettysburg, donned a brown-and-black-checked cap, a hip-length windbreaker and heavy leather boots, and puttered about in the crisp fall weather "to get some air." Happily he inspected his 20 head of cattle and chatted with the neighbors who accompanied him. ("She's a pip! . . . We ought to hold on to that one for a while until we see how he develops!") Then, after precisely five hours on the farm...