Word: fists
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...Anglo-American promise to institute an effective system for main-taining peace; that promise was not kept. At the end of World War II, Russia may be expected to cooperate with the United Nations only if guaranteed a peace system that will substitute the olive-branch, for the mailed fist and replace the ultimatum with arbitration. We must make the promise of peace once more; this time we must keep...
Harvard's done it again! In a dusky and over-worked Physics B laboratory came the long-heralded "eureka," and a little spectacled man clenched in his fist the treatise proving the existence of the 93rd element. The strange thing about the new element is why didn't somebody think of it before. This, the one that Mendeleeff missed, has been given the formula Wo., and has been appropriately named Woman...
...like a picaresque novel. It began on a bleak shelf of rock in mid-Atlantic near Tristan da Cunha. Transplanted to Rhode Island by a passing Portuguese, he became a man of proverbial strength around the Providence wharves; he could drive a spike through an oak plank with his fist. As there was constant need for this type of skilled labor, he soon acquired enough tuition to enter Brown University. He is chiefly remembered there for translating the epigrams of Martial into colloquial Amharic and designing Brooks Bros.' present trademark, a sheep suspended in a diaper...
...table, Vag wondered if the Beacon Street dowager next to him cared whose life was saved with her blood. Funny if it got to some bleeding Muscovite. Curiosity forced him to look down the row of tables at the prone women. He winced. Why were they all clenching their fists? Pain? But they told me . . . Vag looked up into the soft face in the hard white uniform. It surprised him when he saw a black pipe stuck in the crook of his arm and a slow red flow into the bottle. "Open and close your fist," she said, "it acts...
...tired men. Bob Milner, the squadron's Executive Officer, was the opposite of relaxed Lou Kirn. In the cockpit he jumped around like a monkey, twisting knobs, pushing levers, pulling his hood open and slamming it shut again, punching out Morse-code messages to his wingmen with his fist. But he was a smooth flyer who led a dangerous division. On the cots in front of their tents in the evenings he would start bull sessions on the squadron's weaknesses...