Word: leaned
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Dates: during 1950-1959
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Before him now lies Britain's top field command: commander in chief of the Army of the Rhine. A lean, austere martinet who characterizes himself as "a professional soldier ... no politician," Templer had expected no fond farewells in Malaya. Yet all the way to the airport from his gubernatorial mansion, his Rolls Royce had been mobbed by cheering, affectionate Asians: Malays, Chinese and Indians. From the turbaned representatives of nine Malayan potentates, Templer got a silver cigar box. On his wrist he wore a bamboo bracelet, given by the aborigines of far-off Negri Sembilan, to ward off evil...
...Malaya would do without Templer was anybody's guess. But the hard, lean soldier would not be forgotten. "Templer left his impression on the whole country," wrote a Malayan. "Perhaps he will be a legend in the kampongs. They will remember the spare, striding figure, the smile that lit the eyes...
...falls. "Speed," mutters the man in the bucket seat of the huge Mitchell camera, peering through its eyepieces as if appalled. Then, while the 50 hairy ones look on in a sort of belligerent despair, while the tourists stand on tiptoes, while the director and servitors of the camera lean close enough to breathe on him, the actor kneels beside a chaise longue in the awful light, takes the hand of a beautiful, sticky-faced woman reclining there, and says, striving for both articulation and tenderness, "Darling...
...reached the barrio at 6:35 a.m. If I failed to return by 9 a.m., the troops would blow the place to smithereens. Taruc was waiting at the foot of Mt. Arayat, an extinct volcano. His lean figure was surrounded by the people of the barrio; like them, he wore a grey peasant shirt, brown pants and a wide-brimmed straw hat. The only question I asked was: "Do you accept the President's terms?" Taruc said: "I accept." He shook my hands warmly and said farewell to the barrio folk, many of them weeping. Minutes later we were...
...nation's most venerable poets, New England's patriarchal Robert (Birches) Frost, 79, and the Midwest's lean-jawed Carl (Chicago) Sandburg, 76, looking more than ever like blood brothers, showed up at Manhattan's Waldorf-Astoria for some new laurels. To them and eight other U.S. authors went awards from the Limited Editions Club for having written "books which seem most likely to survive as classics...