Word: grasses
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Dates: during 1960-1969
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...leavetaking, Joe Kennedy returned to his home with Caroline, romped for half an hour with all his visiting grandchildren, then set off to the Palm Beach Golf Club with Ann Gargan, his favorite niece. But on the fairway to the sixth hole, he sat down on the grass, and said that he did not feel well. Ann Gargan took him to the clubhouse in a golf cart, then drove him home. In the front hall, Kennedy spoke briefly to Jackie Kennedy and to Caroline before retiring to his bedroom. He left behind him a stern injunction: "Don't call...
...what is seen, it is fantastically good. Let an acorn fall from a tree, does it lie there like any natural nut? No, it is an acorn of the mind that spins like a top, turns suddenly into a busy little brownie and goes bustling off into the grass. Let "proud Titania" glide through a glade, does she flutter like any common fairy? No, she is borne on a whispering bejeweled wind of minikin glittering wings...
SHADOWS ON THE GRASS, by Isak Dinesen. The author, who is Denmark's finest writer and one of the world's best, writes a dry, elegiac reminiscence of the years she spent from 1921 to 1931 managing a coffee plantation in Kenya. Miss Dinesen's principal theme is the feudal harmony of white master and black servant, making the book seem removed by centuries, not decades, from the present...
...overhead the birds wheeled and out of the hallucinated sky fell the balance with mortar and pestle and the bandaged eyes of justice. All that is here related moves with imaginary feet along the parallels of dead orbs; all that is seen with the empty sockets bursts like flowering grass. Out of the nothingness arises the sign of infinity; beneath the ever-rising spiral slowly sinks the gaping hole. The land and the water make numbers joined, a poem written with flesh and stronger than steel or granite. Through endless night the earth whirls towards a creation unknown...
Cheerleaders cartwheel giddily across the grass and trumpets blare the notes of familiar fight songs. Undergrads guzzle brandy, nuzzle girl friends, nibble fingernails and lustily sing the praises of alma mater. Such are the sights and sounds of college football for most fans-but not for the pro scout. Cold-eyed and calm in the midst of it all, he perches in some remote corner of the stadium, clutching his notebook and pencil. His sound is the smack of leather meeting leather, and his sight is the glimpse of a crumpling block, a tooth-rattling tackle, or a precisely executed...