Word: gauntness
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Norway's gaunt and great Grete Waitz finished second, 1 min. 26 sec. late, without encouraging any discussion of her chronically creaky back. It had been in severe spasm the day before. Benoit was "too strong," said Grete, who had never before lost a marathon that she finished. By the halfway point, according to her old Norwegian saying, "the train had already left." Waitz was one of the few runners who viewed the Swiss straggler with a totally unmixed emotion: "I would have taken her right off the track. I don't like to watch that." Benoit sighed...
...self-caricature, the rhinoceroid slob in housecoat and curlers who hasn't seen her feet since grade school, is not even a fun-house mirror image of reality. She is a good-looking, brown-haired woman (though the hair color varies according to whim) who is, if not gaunt, at any rate acceptably trim at 5 ft. 2 in. and 127 Ibs. Is it a surprise that her daughter Betsy, 30, and her sons Andrew, 28, and Matthew, 25, have lost their baby teeth? And that her husband is not a football-stupefied turnip but rather an articulate, quick...
...most famous spot in Sarajevo, where the Appel Quay once met the Latin Bridge that crossed the gentle Miljacka River, there now stand two footprints embedded in the concrete sidewalk. The bridge today is called the Princip Bridge, for these two footprints mark the place where Gavrilo Princip, a gaunt, sallow student of 19, stood and fired the pistol shots that, as one historian put it, took seven million lives...
...politics of Iran's Khomeini. In the spring of 1982, Hussein Musawi, then the leader of the military wing of Amal, the country's dominant Shi'ite organization, accused the group's leader, Nabih Berri, of not adhering to the Ayatullah's edicts. The gaunt and bearded Musawi left Beirut with several hundred followers, mostly hard-core fighters. He promptly established the new faction of Islamic Amal in Baalbek, some 40 miles away in Lebanon's Bekaa Valley...
During the war, Orwell and his wife lived in London. Cyril Connolly recalled: "He felt enormously at home in the Blitz, among the bombs, the bravery, the rubble, the shortages, the homeless, the signs of rising revolutionary temper." By then Orwell had become something of a celebrated eccentric, that gaunt Etonian who dressed like a working man (corduroy trousers, dark shirt, size-twelve boots), rolled his cigarettes from a pouch of acrid shag and poured his tea into a saucer before drinking it (there he goes, that Socialist who says such terrible things about Mr. Stalin). Eric Blair had totally...