Word: decrepit
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...Pushkin's strange shape and nature were the products of a bizarre lineage. On his mother's side, he was great-grandson of an African slave originally presented to Czar Peter the Great. His father's family, as he put it, was "the detritus of a decrepit aristocracy" that went back 600 years into feudal times. Born in 1799 in Moscow, Pushkin was left largely on his own by indifferent parents. As a boy he was impressed by French liter ature, especially the savage wit of Voltaire, and absorbed Russian folklore from his peasant nurse - both basic...
From Unborn Lambs. In Europe, said Dorman, the "rejuvenators" hold forth, promising to "make you young again" or revitalize a "wornout" part of the body. He cited Rumania's Dr. Anna Asian, who claims to restore senile and decrepit patients with injections of procaine (Novocain) and vitamins. American patients have tried the treatment with no medically provable benefits. If Asian's claims were true, says Dr. Nathan Shock of the National Institutes of Health, "you'd be adding ten years to your life every time the dentist filled a tooth...
...days he tried to hitch a plane ride to the Biafran battle zone. Finally, he talked himself onto a decrepit DC-4 that took him to Port Harcourt. Along with CBS correspondent Morley Safer and 20 federal troops, Priya went looking for action. On a road outside Owerri, Biafran soldiers opened up from ambush, and Priya was hit in the arm and back. Safer and some of the Nigerian troopers carried him to an aid station, but he died an hour later...
...beginning could hardly have been more appropriate. There were the firemen searching the decrepit Teatro degli Animosi (Theater of the Courageous) in the Italian town of Carrara for bombs. Only after they had given the all clear did the Third International Congress of Anarchist Federations call itself to order-of a sort. As it turned out, there was more than enough verbal bombast to compensate for the lack of real bombs...
Enervated Limbo. Armah's anonymous antihero, referred to as "the man," works in a dim, suffocating traffic-control center, where he tracks the erratic routing of decrepit trains he never sees. The scene suits his mental state, for he lives in the cheerless, enervated limbo of post-revolution letdown. He has learned the dispiriting lesson that freedom from colonialism does not mean freedom from exploitation-particularly when the new masters are black liberals less interested in tipping the revolution than in driving their recently acquired Mercedes. He has learned that the lusts for both blood and money know...