Word: limped
(lookup in dictionary)
(lookup stats)
Dates: during 1950-1959
Sort By: most recent first
(reverse)
Party Line. Hungary, once a limp wrist in international competition, climbed to prowess because the Sports Ministry in Budapest's postwar Communist regime has stuck sternly to the party line that a people's democracy ought to breed winners; the politicians ride herd on the sportsmen to whip them into smooth teamwork. State doctors from the Institute for Sport Hygiene check up on training, state coaches work overtime to turn out well-drilled scoring machines. The fine eleven beat Britain's best in Budapest last May, soon after breezed into Bern and swept easily into the quarter...
...pace and din of Guignol's Band are too fast and deafening to hold up to the very end, and the string of fantastic adventures grows increasingly limp and raveled. By then Cèline has, as always, succeeded in hammering his sharpest hallucinations deep into the reader's head. Spit-curled Cascade, lantern-bearing Dr.Clodowitz, sovereign-stuffed Titus van Claben-such characters are engraved in the memory for keeps. No visitor since Thomas Wolfe has described London with such off-beat perception and passion-not the London the tourist or the Briton has ever seen...
...other three-year-old prize worth having east of the Mississippi. It proved that in addition to speed, the Dancer had stamina; the greater the distance, the better he seemed to go. But in September 1953 Trainer Winfrey detected some soreness in the Dancer's left forefoot and a limp in his walk. It was a stone bruise. The Dancer was retired for the rest of the-year. Tom Fool, a fabulous four-year-old, won New York's three big handicap races (the Metropolitan, Suburban and Brooklyn). Horsemen who had hoped to see Tom Fool and Native Dancer...
...ducks behind furniture as she takes it off) and closes with a bump-and-grind dance that shocked both the Breen office and the Legion of Decency, though it is more notable for poor taste than salaciousness. These two low points of the picture are connected by a limp story line that once again asks the burning question: How can a U.S. millionheiress be sure that she is loved for herself and not for her millions? Gilbert Roland supplies the answer with a French accent...
There were three, maybe four people at the bar. The booths were empty, except for one where an old man sat, sipping beer and talking occasionally to an even older colored woman in the chair beside him. The bartender, a balding man with a limp and a hearing aid, rested his back against the counter, his eyes fixed on the television set in the far corner of the room. From time to time he would pick up an empty beer glass and fill it from the tap marked Kruger. The bar was speckled with little pools of beer and small...