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Word: foreheads (lookup in dictionary) (lookup stats)
Dates: during 1960-1969
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Usage:

...factory conference hall at Poona, outside Bombay. It was the time of year for worshiping Lakshmi, the Hindu goddess of wealth and prosperity, to whom all wise Indian businessmen annually offer their order books for a blessing. With his workers during the ceremony, his feet bare and his forehead glowing with a dot of vermilion, sat Shantanu Laxman Kirloskar, the U.S.-educated head of India's Kirloskar group, a seven-company combine that sells $46 million worth of farm and industrial equipment a year in 42 nations on every continent. Shantanu Kirloskar's respect for ancient rites...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: India: Ancient Gods & Modern Methods | 11/13/1964 | See Source »

...Afternoon. The medium looks like a plump 40-year-old schoolgirl whose face has the form and consistency of unbaked bread. She speaks to her timorous husband in plaintive, halting phrases, pausing from time to time to brush away some imaginary disturbance in the middle of her forehead. "Arthur wants me to be recognized for what I am. What we're doing is not ... wrong, Billy...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: Cinema: Medium Rare | 11/13/1964 | See Source »

...bear it!" she stammered, sweeping a thin and pallid hand across her humid forehead...

Author: NO WRITER ATTRIBUTED | Title: No Crime | 11/10/1964 | See Source »

Harry Truman, 80, fractured two ribs and cut his forehead when he slipped in the bathtub of his Independence, Mo., home. He was rushed to Research Hospital in Kansas City, where he received a dozen red carnations from Visiting Speechmaker Barry Goldwater, with a get-well card that added, "No campaign is worth the name without you." Old H.S.T., however, had already welcomed Goldwater to Missouri with a radio blast taped before the accident and broadcast afterward. Caught with his timing somewhat out of joint, Harry could only mutter, "That's one for the books...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: People: Oct. 23, 1964 | 10/23/1964 | See Source »

When the curtains parted, the composer was crouched over his fiddle, eyes hooded in dark glasses, sweat beading his forehead, his orientally sinister mustache drooping. He leaned over his big bass and began to bow. The mournful, dolorous, lyrical introduction swelled into the horns' full statement of the theme. A flute skittered in. Suddenly a roaring, vibrant alto sax soared over the full horns. Mingus dropped his bow, began to thump. He danced out in front of his bass, bouncing up and down, swarming over the instrument, crashing together swift blocks of strident chords. Drums pounded accents like...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: Jazz: Beneath the Underdog | 10/2/1964 | See Source »

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