Word: half
(lookup in dictionary)
(lookup stats)
Dates: during 1960-1969
Sort By: most recent first
(reverse)
...doubtful that any one nation can claim more than one great city at any given time-great, after all, is a word that implies uniqueness. It is doubtful, too, that the world itself can contain more than half a dozen great cities at once. Indeed, a great city cannot exist in an unimportant country, which is why Urban Planner John Friedmann of U.C.L.A. prefers to call great cities "imperial cities." London and Paris are still great cities, but they lost some of their luster when world politics shifted to Washington, Moscow and Peking-all of which lack at least...
...cities today, if only because Milan-cold but confident-controls too much of Italy's wealth and industrial power. The U.S., which is rich in both money and people, ought to be able to support two great cities, perhaps one on either coast, but it does not. A half-century ago, San Francisco looked as if it might become the great city of the West. Instead, it has remained a charming, eccentric and physically beguiling minor metropolis. Los Angeles, in the unlikely event that it ever should overcome its centrifugal forces, may yet become the Western colossus. Though...
...extremely durable, "planned obsolescence" would itself become obsolete. For another, the new cars, to minimize the drain on their batteries, would have to be light, small and free of many of today's high-profit accessories. As for the oil industry, Netschert figures that it would lose fully half its market...
...this darkly glowing work depict episodes in the life of Thomas à Becket, together with scenes from the Passion of Christ and the life of the Virgin, achieving a peak of dramatic intensity hitherto unrealized in North German painting. In The Martyrdom of St. Thomas, the kneeling archbishop half turns toward his attackers. Blood streams down his forehead and splashes onto his white cassock; his miter rolls away across the tile floor. The decorative flatness of Thomas' cope and the star-spangled, scarlet sky are in striking contrast to the bold modeling of his face...
...fall day, Fred was already prowling the beach, studying the heart-shaped tracks. "They're here," he whispered. A rangy, rawboned man with the weathered look of a backwoods sage, he was wearing his favorite old camouflage jacket and a battered gray fedora. As he explored the island, half a dozen deer bolted from distant thickets, their upturned tails waving like white flags. Later, sipping black coffee out of a tin can, he smiled: "Looks like this is going to be too easy for the bow. Maybe 1 should have brought my spear...