Word: fruited
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Dates: during 1940-1949
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This week our Information Center here in the lobby of the TIME & LIFE Building is filled with needlework, oil paintings, gadgets, fruit, flowers, and some vegetables-entries in TIME Inc.'s annual Country Fair for employes who fancy their horticultural and artistic capacities. Generally, of course, the Information Center is filled with its own news exhibits-and visitors...
During the daylight hours of fast, less pious Moslems still sold dripping sheep carcasses, eggs, fruit and vegetables in the stewing narrow streets of the Old City. Arab merchants, sitting cross-legged on bolts of cloth, still tried to entice customers in the bazaars of King David's Street. But the vendors were wary and sharp-eyed. Any sudden movement of police or soldiers was likely to bring the clang of rung-down iron shutters, a scurrying for cover. For in Jerusalem (or Haifa or Tel-Aviv or Jaffa) sudden action might mean an exchange of shots...
...clumsy . . . haunted by no memories. . . They had no ancient curse upon them and no hysterical hopes; they had the peasant's love for the land, the schoolboy's patriotism, the self-righteousness of a very young nation. They were Sabras-nicknamed after the thorny, rather tasteless fruit of the cactus, grown on arid earth, tough, hard-living, scant...
...things grow pretty much as nature intended. It did lop off some Presidential wartime powers. Just as baffled as most U.S. people, it thrashed around in the undergrowth of price control, came up with a compromise OPA bill; no one has any idea whether it will live and bear fruit. Inexplicably it plowed under all effective housing acts. It also endorsed the silver bloc's raid on the Treasury, which will cost U.S. taxpayers plenty and further demoralize the currencies of China, India and Mexico...
...neither his style nor his subjects. His lushly colored, impressionist scenes of French life delight the eye, make no demands on the mind. Having neither the audacity of Matisse nor the intellectuality of Picasso, he turns constantly to the commonplace: simple cottage interiors, village streets, somnolent nudes, bowls of fruit or fish, all as familiar and soothing to his fellow Frenchmen as old bed slippers and good wine...