Word: forgot
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Dates: during 1940-1949
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...quite achieved his ends, his means and his theories were disarming. Leneman paints with his fingers, an activity he took up in Warsaw, at 14. Leneman's parents had taken away his brushes to make the boy spend more time at his books, but they forgot to take away his paints. So Leneman started smearing his inspirations directly on the canvas; daubing, lumping, clutching, rubbing and pinching to heighten the drama. Then, in Palestine and Paris, he brought finger-painting to a fine pitch. Later he taught art in Venezuela and U.S. Army hospitals...
Nowhere did Prestes explain why he had been absent, or mention rumors that he had been in Russia. The cub reporter and everybody else forgot to ask him where he had been. Best guess was that he had stayed right in Rio, organizing new front parties for his illegal Communists to take over...
Texas Historian Walter Prescott Webb (The Great Plains) deplored the dull way his state's history was taught in the Texas public schools; pupils learned the lessons dutifully and soon forgot them. Professor Webb, who teaches at the University of Texas, was convinced that children can not only learn to like history; they can help to write it. Seven years ago he organized a Junior State Historical Association, to persuade high-school kids to discover history for themselves and to write up what they found just as professional historians...
...speaker in Central Park, and many another who marked the day, remembered that Bolívar was the liberator of four countries: his native Venezuela, Colombia, Ecuador, Peru, an area ten times the size of mother Spain; that he founded a fifth, Bolivia, once known as Upper Peru. They forgot his fatal quarrels with associates...
...years at Princeton, thousands of students had come to know George McLean Harper-and hundreds never forgot him. They had listened to his dry, earnest voice over a classroom lectern, or heard him read aloud a favorite poet in his sun-patched garden. They knew him as an erect and kindly man who loved all that was good in men & books. Sometimes, over milk and cakes in his garden, he would begin a quiet discussion of Milton or Sainte-Beuve, and would soon become so excited by a point that his chair would scarcely hold him. But his natural dignity...