Word: hopeless
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Dates: during 1930-1939
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Next day Alice Roosevelt Longworth, his wife, was summoned by telegraph from Washington. A specialist arrived from Augusta. Five nurses went on duty. The Speaker was put into an oxygen tent. The Press rushed representatives to Aiken as his condition changed from "serious" to "dangerous," from "critical" to "hopeless...
...most with their economic program. Their activities at the next session (December to June, 1932) will color the whole presidential campaign. Last week's meeting served to emphasize the drift of Progressive opinion from Republican to Demo- cratic principles. To Progressives, President Hoover has become a hopeless reactionary; they have lost faith in winning any of their reforms through the Republican party. Democracy, they hope, will furnish a presidential candidate they can support. Most favored among them at the moment is Governor Roosevelt; most disliked is Owen D. Young whose nomination to run against President Hoover, Progressives say, would send...
...Coffey & Humber, who work for the Southern Pacific Co. in San Francisco, last year cautiously announced that they were alleviating hopeless cases of cancer by means of adrenal cortex extract derived from sheep. The Hearst press recognized the kernel of news in this announcement and puffed it so that thousands of cancer victims abandoned the orthodox treatment of surgery, X-rays and radium, rushed for the sure-cure...
...play about famed Poetess Emily Dickinson (1830-86) for Eva Le Gallienne's Civic Repertory Theatre. Playwright Glaspell's Emily Dickinson is Alison Stanhope, who lived not in Massachusetts but in Iowa. However, both Alison and Emily made their trips to Washington, wrote poems to a hopeless love whose portrait hung above a desk, left memories jealously guarded by their families. The play opens 18 years after Alison's demise, on the last day of the last century. Alison's house has been sold, the family is moving out. Her relatives gather. All save one have...
...white and glistening and untouched it is. Imagine the trodden, trampled, often miry footpaths, (no, thought-paths) of a long-used mind, pitted with grievances, scarred with ugliness, cumbered with useless lumber, strewn with outworn hopes, clouded with disappointments and with sorrows, rusty with neglected opportunities, creaking with dismal hopeless habits. And then imagine the little lustrous honeycomb of cells of pearly pearly white that my son Simon...