Word: lip
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Dates: during 1950-1959
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Actually, Bishop Dibelius is merely rolling with the punch of stepped-up anti-church activity. The Evangelical Church still regards Youth Dedication to the state as at least lip service to atheism, and hence a sin. But hardheaded Otto Dibelius and other church leaders in East Germany decided they must henceforth emphasize the church's readiness to forgive; youngsters who submit to the Red ceremonies but repent of their action will be admitted to confirmation at the discretion of the local minister...
...reason, suggests a pressagent, is that Peter Gunn is "a little bit much." The program so exaggerates traditional private-eye brouhahas that it can be taken for parody. And it is done so deadpan that it has rigor mortis of the upper lip...
Oboe playing, like bird watching and taffy pulling, is a passion that seems to run in families. The earliest famous oboe clan was that of Frenchman Jean Philidor, who played at the court of Louis XIV; after him, seven other Philidors put lip to reed. Today the reigning oboe family in the U.S. goes by the name of Gomberg: Harold, 42, is first oboist of the New York Philharmonic; Ralph, 37. is first oboist of the Boston Symphony. One night last week, at precisely the same hour, the Brothers Gomberg appeared before the men of their respective orchestras to perform...
...training meal immediately before an athletic contest, however, is a horse of another color, and this should clearly be retained. But so long as the University pays lip service to the ideal of mixing people with diverse backgrounds and interests, its continued support of the daily training-table will seem very strange indeed...
...cunning melancholy evaporated from the remembering ear and might have materialized in the cinnamon-brown clouds that brushed like a dark breath over the cheek of the softening mocha and amethyst horizon. The east slipped to peace amid a resentment of raddled colors, the sun dipped beneath the great lip of the earth's rim and the landscape dark as an ancient photograph, warm and old as the closed volume of its million passion years, sublimated into the uncomprehending and excellent excrescence of the pale poppy-seed dimension, timeless, in the hand of whatever great essence contains the world...