Word: geranium
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Dates: during 1920-1929
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...year ago, he explained, some Slovaks held a mass meeting and issued a "Declaration of Slovak Independence." The whole thing was quite harmless and academic, easily suppressed by the police. In fact the ringleader was just an old botanist of some slight renown, Professor Mihalusz. Scared pink as a geranium by the first police warning. Botanist Mihalusz fled Trencsen for parts unknown?some say Vienna. He must have written the letter which won Slovakia recognition?from Siam...
...newly opened libraries in McKinlock and the dining halls of the Business School are already at a premium. This is not in the least surprising as both projects were designed with a careful eye to the convenient and the aesthetic. Studying Freshmen are consoled by handsome woodwork, pots of geranium, and a spacious alcove with a fireplace. The business men's professional fatigue is more than soothed by the arts of the former culinary overlord at the American House. And these things are within the gates of the respective consumers...
...ancient Babylon, Nebuchadnezzar and Sennacherib were no sucklings in the art of nepotism, but in Babylon, L. I., where hanging gardens are merely geranium pots, Joseph P. Warta, town supervisor, kept alive Euphratean tradition. He saw to it that his son, aged 17, was appointed Inspector of Roads, paid...
...like light from huge searchlights, from bulbs strung down the rough; Not every ball reached the green ; only the one reached the hole at one stroke. Many were lost. But all" persons present conceded the possibility of playing "night golf."* Wrote Colyumist Phillips for The Sun: "'Ever play Geranium Hills?' one golfer will ask another. " 'No, but I'd like to.' " 'Come on over some night and try it.' " Are there any hazards ?' " 'Yes, there's a dark corner on the sixth and two broken bulbs on the eleventh. Then...
...Significance. Geranium trees and alabaster cups?pickled walnuts and plovers' eggs?Darius Milhaud and Ouida?a patchwork of curious names, objects, personages, vices?a plate of literary antipasto, some pleasant, some a little stale. Somewhat affected, somewhat precious, quite amusing, though not nearly as delightful as Peter Whiffle, The Blind Bow-Boy reviews a facile display of intellectual fireworks from under the lacquered eyelids of a superficial sophistication. The fireworks squib out, the performance is over. There were too many pinwheels near the close, perhaps, and the shadow of Ronald Firbank had a way of straying across the scene...