Word: lightly
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Dates: during 1940-1949
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Prisoner Strong was examined by a woman doctor, then locked in a solitary cell with a peephole through which guards could watch her. A bright light glared down in her face. "All night between snatches of sleep, I faced my sins." Why was she there? Her best guesses: 1) she had annoyed somebody by trying to get to China via the "closed" Manchurian frontier; 2) it was a "stupidity of some department eager to make a record...
...possible that he had been moved up, either to an inner advisory group on the Politburo, or to the Central Committee's Military Department, the Communist Party's hidden organ which controls the Ministry of Armed Forces. One trend was clear: all but one (Minister of Light Industry A. N. Kosygin) of the Politburo's 13 members have been relieved of routine administrative duties. Perhaps they needed to be free to think, and think hard, in view of crucial policy decisions ahead...
...rnberg, which Germans used to call their Schatzküstlein (little jewel box), one looks down at night from the great 11th Century castle on the sparkling lights below which seem to stud a living, healthy city. But in the light of day, the city is a ruin, rendered only more monstrous by the neat little gingerbread houses which poke impertinently above the debris...
...baptized, the Burmans threw them into prison. One convert, Ko Shwe Waing, was released and smuggled a Bible in the Karen language through the back jungle trails to his native village. There, while Karens guarded the house, he reverently unwrapped the mythical lost book in the flickering light of a primitive lamp. At the sight of the treasure, some villagers bowed down; some wept with happiness; others caressed the sacred object. For decades the Karen Baptists remained a persecuted religious minority. As late as 1851, one Burman ruler threatened to shoot the first Karen he caught who was able...
Green Pastures. Vargas led the way slowly into the house, sat down near the door. There was not a picture on the wall, nor a rug on the floor. Over the unpainted table, bare except for letters and newspapers lying on a small radio, hung a naked light bulb. In the adjoining room stood a metal bed, a lavender-colored wardrobe, a few nondescript wooden chairs. "My parents were farmers," Vargas began. "Now that I am an old man, it is good to be back in my childhood scenes...