Word: groaning
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...university is to be a factory, and those gentlemen and scholars who brought libraries to the colonies in America would probably groan at the word, then pure science will develop better soap and shoes and sealing wax, and call the job complete. But if the university is to be something even higher than business could imagine something finer than business could really effect, then pure science will continue to function as an organism of honest research into the whys and wherefores of this odd, but necessary universe...
...middle of the second period of the Pittsburgh-Penn game, the Umpire and the Referee saw two players exchanging vigorous fisticuffs, sent both of them off the field. A groan went up from the Pittsburgh stands for one of the pummelers was Fullback "Gus" Gustafson, their flower. But already this nimble Nordic had materially assisted in the scoring of two touchdowns, which was enough to win the game...
When dirty weather gathers in this book, as it does continually, the seas thunder, spurt, hurl, burst, cascade, career and cannonade. Poops lurch, hatches groan, bulwarks drown, spars shiver, tumults surge, canvas flogs, human limpets cling to wreckage with bleeding nails, battered limbs, frozen hands, grim resolve. It is a fast-sailing tale of clipper days, stoutly and thoroughly rigged from stem to gudgeon, commanded by a cultured swashbuckler from Nova Scotia, a hammer-fisted, hell-bent "bluenose" skipper, with Nietzschean ethics, Vulcanic muscles, the passions of Poseidon, the luck of Lucifer. When his clipper Aphrodite goes down off Patagonia...
...moralist is entitled to one groan of regret, admirers of scenery must be permitted several sighs of relief. They may now gaze with less glaring obstruction upon the natural beauties of the landscape. The graceful swell of the meadow will no longer be surmounted by pork-and-beans; canned-milk cows will cease to graze the unfertile slopes of New England. Perhaps, under a more rigorous law the defacers of highways may be forced to renounce entirely their motto, "He who rides must read", and in some Elysian future flamboyant advertising will no longer stun the senses of the motorist...
...purpose of drying one's hands. The first time I saw one I was distinctly impressed. Shining with porcelain and polished nickel they seemed the incarnation of this hygienic age. Expecting a scientific miracle, I pushed the pedal, spread out my dripping pans and awaited results. A low, dismal groan arose and a ghastly breeze numbed my fingers. I thought of Hamlet's father and my hands shook clumsily as though covered with gore. After three minutes intercourse with the departed. I dried my hands on my handkerchief and arrived late for my next class. Since that time, when feeling...