Word: live
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Dates: during 1930-1939
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Nowadays there is always plenty of money for His Imperial Majesty the Caliph Abdul Medjid II and almost any sunny day he may be seen strolling with a mien of great dignity along the beach near Nice, attired in swimming trunks only and carrying a large parasol. "I live apart from worldly vanities here in Nice," recently observed the Caliph, whose favorite reading is Anatole France. "I read, I play the piano, I paint. Nice is perhaps the only foreign city which is popular with the Turkish people. You will recall that in the 16th-Century Wars against Charles...
...Return to home must those who live at case...
...Merivale is now sad because he is a small-town English nonconformist parson who has to live in a ghastly house with a leaking roof, put up with a whining wife, stand for any amount of bulldozing from his parishioners and much bad cooking from a gabbling, ill-trained slattern. He is sadder when one of his younger parishioners runs away. He is a little more cheerful when he goes after her and falls in love with her, but then he is much sadder than ever when she is killed in an off-stage railway wreck from which he escapes...
...Herbie who wished to marry Clarey Johns, 24, that "Charlie was afeered we would do the same on Eunice." But, said she, "This thing is all right with God. I know. A man who has God's word married my daughter. . . . They don't actually live as man and wife. Why, she's still my child, just my little baby. He treats her just like always, except they sleep in the same room now." Said Father Winstead: "What God hath joined together let no man put asunder. I wouldn't put my soul in danger...
Russian Reds and Whites cannot live together in amity, but one parti-colored dead man they proudly own in common. Last week, on the hundredth anniversary of Alexander Sergeevich Pushkin's death, for once both Reds and Whites sang together like so many harmonious morning stars. Arid for once, the burden of their song was praise: praise for Pushkin, Russia's No. 1 poet. To most U. S. readers, Pushkin is still only a funny name. Much of his poetry has been translated, but most of it reads like doggerel.* To that the all- Russian retort...