Word: day
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Dates: during 1950-1959
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...day last month. Student Barbara Jean Herin, 16, came home with The New Pocket Anthology of American Verse, asked her mother to read aloud as she ironed. For Mrs. Herin, a devout Baptist, it was an unsettling experience. Out of her mouth came the strange words of one Ogden Nash: "Don't bother your head about sins of commission/ because however sinful, they must at least be fun or else/ you wouldn't be committing them." Barbara Jean's parents pored through the book, found at least 30 objectional poems. Most shocking were three by Walt Whitman...
...town of Greccio, three years before he died, St. Francis preached before a manger filled with hay, beside which stood an ox and an ass. Wrote an early biographer, Thomas of Celano: "Greccio was transformed almost into a second Bethlehem, and that wonderful night seemed like the fullest day to both man and beast for the joy they felt at the renewing of the mystery...
Last week the Piaf endurance test that the papers had begun to call "The Defiance Tour" or "The Suicide Tour" was finally halted. The sad singer was taken to hospital for a rest cure-some 20 hours a day of drug-induced sleep. "Everything becomes a great white silence," explained France-Soir. L'Aurore printed a picture of the clinic, the name (Bellevue) showing clearly to attract the curious public, and an arrow pointing to Piaf's room...
Site and architect came together by sheer chance. Seven years ago, rotund, ebullient Nat Owings, 56, a senior partner of the huge architectural firm of Skidmore, Owings & Merrill, was visiting San, Francisco for the express purpose of courting a handsome divorcee, Margaret Wentworth. One fine fall day they set out on a picnic in the precipitous Big Sur country south of Carmel. Scrambling along the cliffs, they came upon a finger of land that thrust out into the Pacific in lonely grandeur. To the south, they could see a 40-mile sweep of coastline. Six hundred feet below, sea lions...
...three snelly days the poor thiggin gaes stravagin' about Argyll wi' the King's men rairin' at his duff, all the whyles hummin' an' hankerin' at ilka Scottish hizzie that leuks as if she griens a kiutle. Hoch aye, what a collie-shangie! As the fourth day daws, the great ram-feezled bairn gaes spracklin' back to Beigg, ye ken, in a wee drunt. But the primsie lass he left behind shakes her cockernony at him and soon pits some rumble-gumption...