Word: greenes
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Dates: during 1960-1969
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Only Castro endures, bearded as always, clad in his familiar green army fatigues, now 41. The years of experimentation and frustration seem to have mellowed him: he is a guerrilla agriculturist these days, seemingly more concerned with exporting sugar than revolutionary warfare. For last week's celebration, there was no military parade, no troops and no tanks. "We do not want to waste a gallon of gas or lose a minute of work," Fidel explained to a million cheering Habaneros in the Plaza de la Revoluci...
...absolutely crucial to point out that there are many people in America who "could not make the grade as students," in Dean Ford's terms, and only some of them call themselves revolutionaries: some of them are in the Green Berets, some are in the ghettoes, some are corporation presidents, some have positions in university administrations, some are drug addicts and murderers, and some are probably high up in the Nixon administration. I think the most favorable thing that could be said about that remark of Dean Ford's is that it is brutally snobbish...
...dingy room in a grim penitentiary, out of my mind, I looked over at the man next to me, a Polish embezzier from Worcester, Mass. I could see him so clearly, I could see every pore in his face, every blemish, the hairs on his nose, the incredible green-yellow enamel of the decay in his teeth, the wet glistening of his frightened eyes. I could see every hair in his head, as though each was as big as an oak tree. What a confrontation! What am I doing out here, out of my mind, with this strange mosaic-celled...
...feel fine. Then he paused for a minute and asked, How are you doing, Doc? I was about to say in a reassuring psychological tone that I felt fine, but I could not, so I said, I feel lousy. John drew back his purple-pink lips, showed his green-yellow teeth in a sickly grin, and said, What's the matter, Doc? Why you feel lousy? I looked with my two microscopic lenses into his eyes. I could see every line, yellow spider webs, red network of veins gleaming out of me, I said, John I'm afraid...
...devil. Among them: The Mephisto Waltz by Fred Mustard Stewart (a pianist kills and inhabits the body of a long-fingered friend), and Don't Rely on Gemini by Vin Packer (the Corsican brothers in outer space). The last author is pseudonymous, but he has to come from Green...