Word: jacketful
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Dates: during 1950-1959
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Stateroom & Sundaes. Other problems existed besides language. His entire wardrobe consisted of one jacket, one pair of slacks, one pair of shoes, two pairs of blue jeans. But by the St. Paul's catalogue, he needed a much fuller list of clothes, including winter boots and coats. Charles Stafford, a tavern owner from Laconia, N.H. visiting Morocco on a trade mission, met the boy, decided to help. He went home and raised $500 from his state's Rotary Clubs. Adeline Martin, a clerical worker at the Nouasseur air-base near Casablanca, sold the Volkswagen...
...Last, Maturity. Though Eliot is probably the wealthiest poet alive (The Cocktail Party netted the lyrical sum of $1,000,000), he still reports for his thrice-weekly chores as a partner of the publishing house of Faber & Faber, where he is renowned as the firm's best jacket-blurb writer. There, last week, in his picture-lined office, he made a remarkable confession: "I'm just beginning to grow up, to get maturity. In the last few years. everything I'd done up to 60 or so has seemed very childish." Reminded of a youthfully immature...
...Marquis de Cuevas and Serge Lifar, were almost friendly, and Angry Young Man John Osborne giggled at the fun. Dame Margot Fonteyn turned up along with Gracie Fields. At midnight, when Bea Lillie, alias Lady Peel, arrived, the party reached its peak. Someone peeled off his dinner jacket; someone else pushed him into the pool. A fully dressed couple staged an underwater race. The bar closed at 2 a.m., but 35 cases of whisky, gin, beer, champagne, vodka, sherry had given the party enough momentum to last till...
...keeping his voice down and his judgments out of this first novel, Author Davis. 29. enlists full sympathy for his victim. Though the jacket claims that his book is a blast at "contemporary Ameri can society," it is really a timeless story about two kinds of brutality: that of the criminal who hurts by not caring for the feelings of his victim, and that of the victim's loved ones who hurt even more by not caring enough...
...Salaud, Cambridge, seven-thirty in the morning. The timeless, homeward, flat-foot tread of the night-cop down Plympton Street; the inchoate giggle of a street-corner Horatio in a black leather jacket; two red eyes in the shadows...