Word: lay
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...TIME's Australia edition recently devoted its cover to an obituary of the legendary prewar batsman Sir Donald Bradman, noting his significance to Australia lay not simply in his unmatched ability to amass runs no matter how fearsome the bowling he faced, but in the ability of those storied exploits to lift his nation's spirits through the tribulations of the Depression and World War II. As writer Thomas Kenneally put it, "When we spoke of literary figures we spoke of Englishmen, but when we spoke of cricket we spoke of our own. No Australian had written 'Paradise Lost...
...about. "The bottom line was Bush had a pretty good night," says a participant. "People liked him. They liked his presentation. They thought it was balanced." It was one more sign of how profoundly the world has changed since the last time the Democrats sat listening to a President lay out his vision for the future, and one more sign that they need to find...
...father John, a carpenter and cabinetmaker and railway mail clerk, is taking his leave of this world in a bedroom that was mine when I was 18. I lay where he is lying now, in the northeast corner of the room, and looked out the window at night to a red blinking light on a distant water tower and imagined living in New York City and other grand things, and now at 87 he lies in the bed and imagines the risen Christ meeting him with open arms, as in the hymns that his morning nurse Ramona sings...
...remember when my Grandma Keillor lay dying in a little hospital in Onamia, tended by her daughters, and my father and his brothers came to bid farewell to her. They drew up their chairs to the foot of the bed where she lay unconscious, and they were very still and solemn for a while, but in due course they got to talking about cars. It struck me at the time as callous--I was 20 and a poet--to sit by your dying mother and discuss a particular low-mileage Ford station wagon you'd seen on a used...
...atmosphere is an uncanny skill for a man who grew up on Manhattan's intellectual Upper West Side. The son of a hat manufacturer, whose maternal grandmother fled from revolutionary Russia, Furst found his literary inspiration in France. He became a "pathological Francophile" the day in 1965 when he lay on his back after a picnic in the town square of Grignan and "felt the blood in the earth" of Provence. Paris, where he lived for eight years before moving to Sag Harbor, N.Y., in 1993, remains for him the center of Western civilization, the "consolation for life's difficulties...