Word: loree
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Dates: during 1940-1949
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...catches fire. The British-French-American oil people have airport and hospital stockades every 60 miles - send out repair men by airplane and fix the fire hole within two or three hours. Bill cruised every foot of Iraq with a Kurdish interpreter and 16 Arabs-got interested in Biblical lore, measured the marks left by Noah's flood, reconstructed the story of the ark. Says Noah was a pitch dealer-built the ark to carry pitch to Babylon just as the Arabs do today...
Last week two Johns Hopkins surgeons told how a bit of bird lore inspired a useful medical discovery. A Boston colleague, two summers ago, told them that when pigeons drain calcium from their bones to make eggshells, their legs and wings grow soft, spongy. But a stiff dose of female sex hormones toughens them up again. Drs. Ralph Gorman Hills and James Arthur Weinberg were so struck with this news that they went right out and tried female hormones on women whose bones were broken and did not knit. Last week, in the Bulletin of the Johns Hopkins Hospital, they...
Today he is more nearly extinct than the bison. Great horns still spring above barroom mirrors; a proud, sad specimen stands stuffed at the Fort Worth airport; Texans still like to call themselves "Longhorns," or "Texas Steers." But until last week the Longhorn was without much honor, or the lore that might bring it to him, save in his own country...
...anything but a very bad symphony. Nobody, even the most ardent Mahlerite, imagines that there is anything important or cosmic about the first movement, for example, which goes on for about fifteen-minutes with little woodland chirpings and bleatings of the clarinet, and launches into a phony folk-lore theme which, after muddling around soupily in the horns through another ten minutes, finally expires in sheer exhaustion. Nobody, I say, could honestly claim this to be great, or even good, music. But hearing a thing like it now and then allows the public to re-evaluate its critical standards...
...love. By the time the day is over, the mutual crucifixion of the Irish marriage is thoroughly clear; the Irishman has made two abject, ambiguous attempts at murder; and Glenway Wescott has wrung a little more than the last drop of slantwise symbolism from the actions and the lore of the bird...