Word: despairs
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Dates: during 1950-1959
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...long as hunger and despair haunt hundreds of millions of people, said the President of the U.S. last week, in a far-seeing foreign-policy pronouncement, "peace and freedom will be in danger throughout the world. For wherever free men lose hope of progress, liberty will be weakened and the seeds of conflict will be sown. In working together to create that hope of progress, we raise barriers against tyranny and the war which tyranny breeds...
...certain to drop in and ask him for a walk "just to cheer old Falstaff up." How little Falstaff needed this super-added cheer they could hardly imagine. On the contrary, they distrusted his seeming calm. They thought his satisfied air a cloak veiling deep festering pools of insidious despair. They feared a crack-up were his troubles perpetually suppressed. And possibly they perceived in his calm something more than merely "taking things in stride"--saw the serious threat he posed to the whole community. In any event, they sought his confidence, and encouraged their friend to unveil by confessing...
...pair of bat wings, Callas managed a breath-taking range of emotion: she seemed to caress the air when pleading tenderly with Jason, then railed at him with fists clenched and her voice full of relentless fury, again sank to her knees with heart-breaking bell tones of despair. She could rail against Zeus himself with the scorn of a rebellious goddess, then chilled the audience in a sort of death march as she seized a dagger and prepared to kill her sons...
Emeritus Professor Homer Greg was eighty-five, and so far as he or his doctor could tell, he might live to be one hundred and five. He was the despair of the business manager of the University, who month after month for twenty years, had mailed him a retirement check. The business manager himself was sixty-four, and, although he never allowed himself to say so, his having to make out checks for Professor Greg was a piece of unfinished business that he would like to see settled before he himself retired. The gray-haired woman who stamped the cards...
...Alsop is not happy. He is incorrigibly gloomy, an inveterate prophet of perdition, forever firing literate messages of despair at what he deems to be a complacent multitude of 35 million readers. His columns bong with death-knell words and phrases: "hair-raising," "chaos," "crisis," "the slippery brink of disaster," "in these dark times," "the edge of the abyss." Should hope well feebly in his breast, he is inclined to stifle it: "It is still too early to say that the worst result is already inevitable...