Word: cuds
(lookup in dictionary)
(lookup stats)
Dates: all
Sort By: most recent first
(reverse)
...ingenious, though abrupt, in justifying those decisions.” In contrast, Eliot, who had held the chair at the meetings of all faculties, usually listened when they voiced their concerns and tolerated their digressions. Eliot observed: “The Faculty is a ruminating animal, chewing a cud a long time, slowly bringing it into a digestible condition; then comes the process of assimilation which is gradual and invisible, so that bystanders do not perceive the growth and expansion of the animal...
...kind of Calvinist delayed-gratification guilt-trip principle by going to these things? Why am I still compelled, despite your rational logic? What sort of beast am I? Henry: Beasts of burden. That’s right, draft animals, kosher hunks of meat with cloven hooves and mouthfuls of cud. Together we are herded underground, into dark, crowded bars, to await the slaughter of the opening act, dreaming of DMB popping out and doing a 50-minute jam on “Tripping Billies.”“That One Show” is so dependent...
...stimulating discussions with fellow students and teaching fellows, are truly an intellectual wasteland. Required participation forces everyone to say something (whether constructive or not), and the talk usually devolves into a banal rehashing of the past week’s lectures. A typical section is like a cow chewing cud: ideas are digested a bit in one stomach, regurgitated briefly to be considered again, and finally swallowed. And the hated “response paper,” which asks students to reflect on the week’s reading in one short page, makes no pretense of requiring...
...Britishly metal tins. Set us free, their vaguely hospitalic aroma commands. Pop us in. Should you respond to their bidding, keep this in mind: the Altoid is a deadly, deadly breath freshener. Though it may leave neophytes running for water, however, the Altoid remains the mature alternative to chewing cud or making sparks. A.R. COHEN...
...actually feel something for that poor, dumb, terrified thing. Imagine yourself quaking in her hooves: one minute you're chewing your cud, the next you're a UFO. But aside from one poor guy in the prologue, who disappears headfirst into a big storm's "suck zone," Old Bossy is the only living creature we see suffering from nature's wrath in this film. The rest of the time the movie implies that tornadoes practice selective targeting, attacking only trucks with no visible drivers or farms where everyone has safely gained the storm cellar...