Word: dreading
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Dates: during 1990-1999
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Spring has sprung; the rites are upon us. The annual process of Making Sure the Lawn Looks Perfect for Commencement-- a process which, for many of us, is dialectically invested with both anticipation and dread--is once again underway. The squadron of landscape-artists has been unleashed; like Stravinsky, they aspire to create a magnum opus of the season's rituals. With ardor, with bags of dirt, they have already begun to transform the Yard from a relatively pleasant, serene meadow into a confusion of cordons, chemical grass simulacra and bare patches of earth hideous to behold. Harvard subsists...
...dangerously remiss in failing to rev up planning for a ground campaign. Still others--recoiling from the live possibility of putting "our boys" on Balkan ground--are pressing for any negotiated way out. And few in the alliance can yet name the specifics of a peace plan: some nations dread the idea of an independent Kosovo; others embrace it. What Clinton and his confreres have left unsettled is just how they intend to fight this war to the finish--and that, more than any photo-op cheeriness, will determine what kind of alliance 21st century NATO will turn...
...dread having to leave knowing I have to go back to this other life," says Henley-Cohn about his academics...
...couldn't do my chem problem sets. The tiniest thing completely frustrated me. Everything with my mother was a fight. I couldn't be nice. I couldn't stop my overwhelming selfishness--everything was affecting me. How I felt. How I reacted. It was a feeling of dread--there was no way out of my self-obsession. What would I do if he died? Where would my mom and I go? I could not escape the constant image of my mother weeping. And her voice: "I hope he lives to see you graduate...
...couldn't do my chem problem sets. The tiniest thing completely frustrated me. Everything with my mother was a fight. I couldn't be nice. I couldn't stop my overwhelming selfishness--everything was affecting me. How I felt. How I reacted. It was a feeling of dread--there was no way out of my self-obsession. What would I do if he died? Where would my mom and I go? I could not escape the constant image of my mother weeping. And her voice: "I hope he lives to see you graduate...