Word: hummingly
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Today's game between Harvard and Columbia marks the 33rd meeting between the Ivy League rivals. Ho hum. The hapless Lions have beaten the Crimson only once in the last 12 years, and that win was by default. The Columbia contest is traditionally the warm-up game for Harvard's ensuing Ivy League schedule, and Crimson teams almost always end up trouncing the Lions. Last year...
BROMELL'S CHOICE of thoughts is spare and economical, but nearly always effective. The details--the way you can hear the hum of the island's single generator all night in a place like Cos; what a Habsburg railway carriage that has been reduced to second-class looks and smells like--seem just right if you're familiar with them, and as if they should be just right even when you're not. Sometimes, though, Bromell is too spare. His sentences can be too short, his transitions starched. But language and fine writing are only important to Bromell...
...mass production, the new Volvo plant in Kalmar, Sweden, would seem curious indeed. It looks more like a giant repair shop than an auto factory. The working space is airy, uncluttered by stacks of spare parts. The plant is so quiet that workers can chat in normal tones, or hum along with the pop tunes playing on their cassette tape recorders. Troubleshooters on lightweight bicycles ensure a steady flow of spare parts. Sunlight plays against bright-colored walls through huge picture windows looking out on the landscape. But the most puzzling question in Ford's mind would be: What...
...walk down one of these paths, and on the left your eyes catch a glimpse of books for Hum 5, "Ideas of Man and the World in Western Thought," and you begin to browse through the selections under this modest, unassuming topic. Ah, yes, Aristotle's Nichomachean Ethics," St. Augustine's "Confessions," Machiavelli's, "The Prince," Kant's "Religion Within the Limits of Reason Alone," Nietzsche's "The Birth of Tragedy." As you read a few lines here, a few there, the printed words slowly vanish and are replaced by an image of yourself dressed in Renaissance robes, poring over...
...time was 6:07 a.m. and the summer sun was just beginning to spread over the deep purple mountains and brown fields of Cyprus when the first airplanes appeared. They were propeller-driven C-130s and C-47s, and Cypriots hearing the hum of many motors realized instantly that the planes were not carrying the usual hordes of summer tourists. As each flight approached the plain between the capital city of Nicosia and the Kyrenia Range, which shields the capital from the sea, a stick of Turkish paratroopers jumped into the cloudless sky. Floating into the welcoming Turkish sector...