Word: dinned
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Dates: during 1950-1959
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...Colonial Room of the Richmond Hotel in Augusta, 30 newsmen gathered with TV and newsreel photographers. The President walked in, his eyes moist. In the din he said: "What I have to say concerns Secretary Dulles." A reporter asked: "What was that, Mr. President?" The room hushed, and Ike repeated: "It concerns Secretary Dulles. I had a conversation this morning with him, and in view of the findings the doctors have made . . . he has definitely made up his mind to submit his resignation." The medical findings, the President added, "are not of the kind, so far as I am aware...
Many listeners complained about the faulty acoustics, saying that the music merely added to the din. A thoughtful aficionado objected that classical pieces and jazz were "too involved" to be enjoyed over a meal. Another House member warned against "trying to satisfy all the appetites at once...
...well benumb the entire Shakespeare-Bacon controversy, the author has a tribune tongue-lash the Senate: "You, Romans, friends and countrymen, have heard me before. I come not to honor Rome but to bury her." Author Caldwell ends her story as Lucanus meets Christ's mother, in a din of paraphrased Hail Marys and purple Passion ("She stood against the background of the hot and brazen mounts, and it seemed to him that she had grown very tall, and that she was clothed in pure light, and that her face beamed like the moon when it was full...
...into heavy public and parliamentary opposition to his bill for beefing up Japan's long-feared police (TIME, Nov. 17). Though members of his own party joined in the criticism of the Premier, Kono urged him to go ahead and ram his police bill through. As the din in the Diet grew louder, Kishi saw a sweet use for his adversity. Rounding suddenly on Kono last week, Kishi demanded his resignation, along with those of two other party aides. "Responsibility for the confusion in the Diet rests on these three," he blandly announced. "Therefore, I have no intention...
Even in a game's quiet moments the din at the Forum is incessant. But the normal noise level increases to a rafter-raising roar when an aging, sharp-featured wingman with deep-set flashing jet-black eyes and a mop of black hair cuddles the puck to his stick, nurses it past enemy defenders, skillfully fakes the goalie out of position and flicks the rubber disk into the cage. Shouts of "Rocket, Rocket" fill the air in delirious tribute to Joseph Henri Maurice Richard, the greatest player in modern hockey history...