Word: foule
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Dates: during 1930-1939
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...said in print, and nearly everything is. Of all the young writers who frisk it in their new-found freedom, few kick higher heels than Erskine Caldwell, husky 30-year-old Georgian, the Methodist minister's son whose ribald God's Little Acre (TIME, Feb. 20) fell foul of Vice-Crusader John S. Sumner but was given a clean bill of health by the courts. Essentially a humorist, and of the earth earthly, he has not yet settled down to his role. Left wing critics have dragged tempting herrings across his track, calling him a heavyweight Red hope...
...Bible Belt that they are the Lord's chosen people. In a romantic interpretation this is the spirit of the soil, mystical, but nourishing and real. In a materialistic psychology the observer might merely comment that the hinds realize that in prosperity or dearth, fair weather or foul, their lands will feed them and save them from the evils to which their stupid incompetence would lead in harsher circumstances...
...Oriental, Feisal habitually employed a Court Taster except when in England, lest an enemy poison him. The royal corpse was not cold before some of the more excitable members of his staff demanded an autopsy to determine whether or not their sovereign's sudden death was due to foul play. Promptly surgeons at the University of Berne set their minds at rest. They found that King Feisal, "The Sword Flashing Down at the Stroke," had succumbed to an advanced stage of arteriosclerosis of the aorta and coronary arteries. The King's cardiac condition had not been improved...
...campaigner's alert abandon, helped account for all three of the East's first chukker goals. Then red-helmeted Hopping slammed his pony unchecked into rangy Boeseke, rolled him to the ground and his pony over him. With a twisted right ankle, Boeseke played on. A foul was called and the West scored its first goal. For five periods the West kept within striking distance. But formidable Rube Williams could not seem to get loose, and Cecil Smith was hitting wild. Hopping was everywhere, his red helmet charging into every scrimmage, sometimes entirely surrounded by Western players...
...clock was whirring which meant eight. He had to take a taxi to get to the station in time, and that left him only 40 cents to lunch on. On the cold drafty trains, filled with foul cigar smoke, men in crumpled brown suits, played poker...