Word: eyeful
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Dates: during 1920-1929
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...Munich airport Baroness von Maltzan, former Fraulein Edith Gruson, daughter of a wealthy Magdeburg steel manufacturer, and her little daughter, Edith, were waiting for the arrival of husband and father. An official approached, sad news in his eye. The Baroness, with superb self-control, sensed the full import of the messenger's news. "Tell me," said she, "is he killed?" And without an answer being given she knew...
...Tunney is UP*; . . . backing away . . . now outboxing Dempsey . . .Jack trying to get Tunney where he can hit him . . . following . . . motions Gene to come in and fight . . . Dempsey comes in like a wild man. . . . Dempsey is DOWN from a hard left to the jaw. He is UP ... Dempsey's eyes are getting worse. . . . TUNNEY LOOKS MAD . . . drives hard on Dempsey's eye, and it is a very, very bad eye. Dempsey is very, very tired . . . Dempsey is almost down. . . . FIGHT IS OVER...
...tutorial assistance offered students meets with no adequate appreciation until the Senior year, when it is brought to bear on the incipient graduate with such force that he cannot help but realize its usefulness. Mere attendance on courses could hardly have equipped him for such a bird's eye view of his college career as that required by Divisional Examinations. Some binding force must have entered into his scholastic work and that force is, in by far the greater number of cases, the tutorial work which for three years has seemed to be only an additional interest and which...
...result of contact between selenium sulphide and mercury). The degree of blackness is photographed by shining a light through the strip of yellow sulphide. If the sulphide has turned dark, less light will penetrate; if black, no light will penetrate. This is recorded on an ammeter legible to every eye...
...named Poetre, she listened with polite and melancholy attention. As the wild oboes wailed, she bent her huge head in self-conscious sorrow. When the brass horns shouted, she flapped the floor with a map of Africa, her right ear. For violins and cellos, ehe rolled her small bright eye. Then, when the crazy, jazzy saxophone blew a blue note, Poetre filled the geyser-ish trumpet of her nose with air and water, blew out a moan more liquid than the trombone's. In wet clothes and a panic the minstrels scurried off. Squirrels. On the roof...