Word: factly
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Dates: during 1970-1979
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...after a while it seemed equally pointless to sit all day, on a chair, in a building, with a ranger who knew little and cared less. It was the first day my legs hadn't pumped more than six miles and the fact I was using furniture in a solid structure seemed sacrilegious, a contradiction of the whole purpose behind the trek. The longer I sat, the less I liked it; rain or shine I knew I would hike out the next...
...generate enough heat to maintain body temperature; as heat drains, so does strength and eventually consciousness.) Every few steps I would run through the symptoms and tell myself that, so far, I was fine. My mind's ability to stifle fear and panic came into play. So did the fact that finally, after climbing 11 passes. I knew how to hike up a verticle climb of 3200 or so feet in less than four miles without getting tired. It meant plodding along until the pass in the rock itself appeared and then scrambling down the other side...
Perhaps Adrian had fallen. I looked down. He hadn't. But I might. I panicked momentarily because for the first time it finally dawned on me that any moment, with any slip, I could die, that, in fact, I probably would--especially since there was no safe way to get across the snowfield. The only thing to do was to sit and slide on the snow and try to halt before the rocks, which reared up like so many menacing bone-breakers, stopped me. So I did, and it worked. The snow even warmed my legs, which scared...
Pilobolus is a word so fine and fat as it rolls off the tongue that, like a kitten or a May morning, it needs no meaning, but in fact it has two. It is the name of a light-sensitive fungus that grows on horse dung-"a rather bawdy little fungus," according to Jonathan Wolken, who met the word and the fungus while studying biology at Dartmouth a few years ago. Wolken also studied modern dance, in an unserious way, in the class of a young teacher named Alison Chase. When he and Classmate Moses Pendleton found, to their total...
...rough-and-ready world of prizefighting, Gene Tunney was unique. Self-educated and fiercely proud, he remained determinedly aloof from the Damon Runyon characters of the sport's golden age. George Bernard Shaw, an avid fight fan, was more to Tunney's taste, despite the fact that the heavyweight refused an offer to appear in Shaw's boxing play, Cashel Byron's Profession. He believed that the playwright had portrayed fighters as simple and dimwitted, and Gene Tunney was neither...