Word: haze
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Dates: during 1920-1929
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...first called them "The Great Smokies," from the smoldering haze that hangs upon them, no one knows. They stretch for 200 miles northeast and southwest paralleling the Blue Ridge (40 miles southeast). Master chain of the Appalachians, they wall off Tennessee from North Carolina. Near a place called Indian Gap, the snag-toothed divide is so sharp that a mountaineer's misstep would plunge him dizzily into one State or the other...
...people the burden of thought. The comma brings the reader to a sharp pause, and a consideration of the ground covered, but these other tracks flow gently on through vague words of pleasant connotation, rather impressively indeed. And unprovoked to thought, the reader can wander after them through a haze of prettily blurred pictures. This is no solemn warning however, for the method is used only in the attempt to be deceptively impressive, and it is doubtful if earnest writers, or weary printers, or impatient readers, will long be bothered with...
Just for a final fling in academic circles before the weekend descends upon us, and for re-entrance into the groves of learning when the haze has lifted, the Vagabond considers the following lectures of interest...
...applied explosives, which had blown a hole through her bottom and had driven her keel upward through her deck. Most of the sailors, 258 of them, and two of the officers had been killed. In Washington, men in frock coats sat around long tables and talked into a blue haze of cigar smoke. Ambassadors called on one another and chatted over tea or whiskey & soda. In munitions factories and arsenals, men in dirty shirts lifted heavy kegs and barrels, piled them together in hundreds, in thousands. And in little towns, in big cities the brass bands played marching songs while...
...five hours, they had been flying over France, lost in a fog that obscured land and the tips of the America's wings. Once, for a moment, they thought they saw rows of squat bath houses on a beach. Again, there seemed to appear a faint haze of light-perhaps it was Paris or the beacons at Le Bourget airport. Then the fog swallowed all. "When we got above the clouds," Commander Byrd later told the New York Times, "there were at times some terrible views. We would look hundreds of feet into fog valleys-dark ominous depths...