Word: drips
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...donor, drew a pint of carefully analyzed Rh negative blood and replaced part of the plasma with a salt solution to reduce the danger of clotting. Then he wheeled the infant into the operating room. He thrust a hollow needle into a vein in its left ankle, began to drip in the donor's blood. When he had dripped in 100 cc, a safe margin, he nicked the radial artery in the baby's right wrist, attached a tube, let the baby's blood drain out. To keep it flowing freely, he injected anti-clotting heparin...
...Super Suds that spouts 5,000 large bubbles a minute. Forthcoming are a three-story soda pop ad in which full glasses will effervesce real balloons, some of which will contain tickets entitling the holder to a free drink, and a blimp-sized orange that will seem to drip juice into a building-high glass...
...late rector of St. Paul's School was a man whose voice was sonorous and whose sentiments had style. St. Paul's boys, who called him "The Drip" long before that phrase had its present teenage connotation, never took him to their hearts, but educators knew Dr. Samuel Smith Drury as a man whose broadsides usually struck home. His bustling, benign successor, the Rev. Dr. Norman Burdett Nash, has neither style nor sonority, but he too hits his target. Last week, speaking at the 50th anniversary celebration at Connecticut's Choate School, Dr. Nash took...
...sees a grandfather's clock. His face glows. Inspiration at last. He says slowly to himself, but with growing conviction, "like the tick, tick, tock of the stately clock as it stands against the wall." Then he looks out the window. It's raining. Another inspiration. "Like the drip, drip drip of the raindrops when the summer shower is through." Somehow Cary manages to continue unaided by props through "so a voice within me keeps repeating" when Alexis Smith, always present in the crucial moments, floats in through the door as Cary triumphantly sings "you, you, you" and goes into...
...while, though. This week Dartmouth football publicity went overboard for a pair of ends, Mo Monahan and George Rusch, who, if you want to believe the written word, should both be out earning a living for their poor mothers with the Chicago Bears, instead of hanging around Hanover. Superlatives drip from a page and a half of purple prose, but before the final period was inscribed on the release, the more cautious of the writers had his covering sentence. "No matter how superior Holy Cross proves to be against a Dartmouth team that unquestionably has its weaknesses. . ." Right there they...