Word: dart
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Dates: during 1930-1939
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...have all thought, afterwards, of the cruelly perceptive remark we might have made, if we had just been a little quicker. How it would have pierced and hurt, how it would have silenced some parish pest! Unfortunately, there have been times when the poisonous dart lay ready to our tongue at the needful moment, and we have loosed it sharp and straight at some man's folly-but it hit his heart. It struck in those mysterious depths where each man tries to maintain a little shy and secret self-respect...
...income tax return; 2) Mr. Mellon's counterclaim for a $139,045 refund on that return, based on an assertion that he had not reported all his philanthropies. Last week spry Counsel Hogan's chief job was to tackle government counsel as it attempted to dart out of bounds on what looked like purely grandstand plays. Once the Government's Chief Counsel, Robert Houghwout Jackson,* tried to prove that Mr. Mellon had bought stocks by way of the famed J. P. Morgan preferred list. Up bobbed Counsel Hogan to cry "Irrelevant!" His objection was sustained. Again Counsel...
...special interest at the work of the three Pinto brothers-Angelo, Biagio, Salvatore-because they are protégés of Philadelphia's Dr. Albert C. Barnes and are included with his Cezannes, Matisses and Picassos in his big private museum.* Angelo was showing a blue-trousered dart thrower leaning against an amusement park counter tended by a pretty girl in red uniform ($300). Biagio, youngest of the three brothers, had a red-nosed clown with guitar ($650). Salvatore's picture of sprawling bathers at a public beach was priced...
...Next year, having preformed the stupendous, death-defying leap from Dropped Sophomore on Probation to Junior in good standing, young Grabblestump strolled about with a superb assurance and aplomb, only to dart into concealment as his trained car detected the far-off strains of the old hunting song, 'Who hasn't paid the Big Bad Wolff?' All of his Senior year was focused on one brief...
...Charles, Harvard would lie cramped between an ugly industrial city bristling with smoke-stacks and neon signs, and the cool green lawns of Brattle Street. If there were no river, men would grow vicious with no place to walk, and they would sit in smoke-filled rooms and dart like angry wasps at each other buzzing invective in ever-changing patterns. Under the blanket of heat that descends over the steeples and towers of Cambridge in the afternoon, the Charles sleeps while agile youths flit on the mirrored surface like water-spiders...