Word: flickeringly
(lookup in dictionary)
(lookup stats)
Dates: during 1950-1959
Sort By: most recent first
(reverse)
...twinges of self-pity, talk of love and resist sex. The woman, it turns out, has an unfaithful husband; the man has a wife he played a part in driving insane. In the end after they have made love, she goes back to her husband and he has a flicker of hope for his wife...
...September 1897, a gawky, 16-year-old youngster from Uniontown, Pa. entered, the tradition-hallowed halls of Virginia Military Institute. "Flicker" Marshall, shy, freckle-faced and bewildered, was quickly the biggest dunce among the rats (freshmen). Yet, bitten by V.M.I.'s tradition and by a proper reverence for the exploits of Confederate General Stonewall Jackson, V.M.I.'s most illustrious professor (whose statue still rates a salute from passing cadets), George Marshall wanted above all to be a soldier...
There was another villain in the Deadwood legend: fire. Any flicker of flame in the bottom of the valley would feed upward to the houses above. And every Deadwood youngster knew that the gulch was a natural chimney when forest fires swept through the adjacent piny hills. A fire starting in a bakery charred Deadwood in 1879. The town was rebuilt with a water barrel on every roof, survived three big fires in 1951-52. Last week, for 24 hours, Deadwood (pop. 4,000) broiled under the windswept fingers of a forest fire that threatened to cook it once...
...first flicker of uneasiness was aroused in the defenders of Xieng Kho when a night reconnaissance patrol went out and did not return. Toward dawn the next day, a sentry spotted some shadowy figures and fired warning shots. As he did so, a red flare blossomed in the night, and from three sides mortar shells rained down on the village and its entrenchments. As the troops scrambled to their positions, they were raked by heavy fire from machine guns and 57 mm. recoilless rifles...
...contrast, the Riviera female is in the throes of full, Amazonian development. Her brightly painted toes flicker through the nimble measures of the Charleston; her wrists grow strong beneath the weight of jangling bracelets; her long thighs are shaped to glued-on toreador slacks. She carries blithely a large basket laden with spare sets of false eyelashes, spare bandannas, waterproof mascara, lipstick brushes, eyelid pencils, bobby pins, suntan oils, combs, tweezers, compacts, cigarettes, stray hairs left by the cat. Atop her head is a brimmed straw-hat pulled over a voile scarf tied babushka-style, and she turns...