Word: gongli
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...groped toward each other as if they were in inky darkness, making fearful swipes with enormous, curved swords. The antagonists' darted, pivoted and leaped over each other while the reedy tones of a Chinese fiddle underlined the wicked swish of a snickersnee, and the soft boom of a gong gave sound to the sensation of naked steel flashing past an ear. "The whole scene," said an American, "is the funniest thing since the Marx Brothers were turned loose...
Inside the Bundeshaus the members' gong sounded, summoning 151 Socialists and 333 members of Chancellor Konrad Adenauer's Christian-Democrat coalition to the climactic debate on West German rearmament. For five years the debate had raged, setting German against German, until the arguments were worn to clichés and all that was left was passion. But though the Deputies' minds were made up, and the result a foregone conclusion, more than 50 eager politicians had put down their names to speak. The debate was, in effect, the last opportunity for each side to arrange the record...
...Pont was fond of organ music but was also hard of hearing, so he built one of the most formidable organs on earth, incorporating a percussion division, harps, celesta, drums, xylophone, tympani, tambourine, tom-tom. Chinese gong and 11,000 pipes, ranging from pencil size (8,000 vibrations a second) to one 34 feet tall and weighing a long ton (13 vibrations a second). Mrs. du Pont could hear...
...boxing in Rajadamnern Stadium, and found it more to their taste. Before a typical bout a pair of lithe welterweights, Sriswasdi Thiamprasidth and Kaeh Chomsrimesk, bowed gracefully to the crowd, knelt on the canvas for prayers to Buddha, and warmed up with a graceful, slow-motion dance. Then the gong sounded for the first round, an energetic four-piece band swung into a tune that sounded like an old-fashioned American carnival hootchy-kootchy, and the fighters started dancing in earnest...
...eventually his moment comes. An assistant director with a voice like a backfield coach bawls: "Keep it quiet now, boys. Quiet. Quiet, if you please!" A gong bangs with doomlike clangor. A horrid silence falls. "Speed," mutters the man in the bucket seat of the huge Mitchell camera, peering through its eyepieces as if appalled. Then, while the 50 hairy ones look on in a sort of belligerent despair, while the tourists stand on tiptoes, while the director and servitors of the camera lean close enough to breathe on him, the actor kneels beside a chaise longue in the awful...