Word: loudest
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...their being promptly hospitalized for observation and possibly further treatment. But the assemblage proved its point: delicate surgery inside the heart is getting safer, and it can bring many a case, once thought hopeless, back to healthy, happy living. The patients at their dinner dance gave their loudest applause to a doctor who introduced Surgeon Bailey with the words: "He has been close to your heart." Then the recovered patients waltzed and jitterbugged...
...temples, French cathedrals and New England general stores, at the bottom of the Grand Canyon and at the top of the Empire State Building, the U.S. amateur photographer pursues his hobby. His camera's combined clicks (he is taking nearly 2 billion pictures this year) would drown the loudest thunder, and the combined light from his flashbulbs (he is using 500 million) would make a major planet pale. The sun to him is chiefly a source of light that often calls for a yellow filter, and the moon merely an object which it is hard to photograph without...
They are the ones who were the loudest shouters for the old hero when he had all the guns in his hand. Then he has might, and the patriotism boys were willing to accept anything he did as gospel. Now, it's a different story. You see it in many of the newspapers: little men rushing to join the new club, the crooked club, because crookedness now stands for success in certain parts of this country. Of course, there is one man behind the thing, one individual with a perverted sense of humor who is engineering the whole thing...
...professional Texans in Texas, one of the loudest and lustiest is a mild-mannered, frail little man named Carl Victor Little, who hails from Columbus, Ohio and eats "damyankees" six days a week. His cannibalism takes place in the Houston Press, where his talents for irony, indignation and invective have made his column "By-the-Way" the best-read in Houston...
Every Sunday in New Orleans, a crowd of jazz fans thread their way into a Bourbon Street gin mill called The Paddock. The lucky ones find seats close up at the bar, where the music is loudest, and with a deference equaling that of longhair purists, listen to an eight-piece band playing oldtime, home-town jazz. The leader of the band is a smiling, coal-black trumpet player named Oscar ("Papa") Celestin, 69 (or maybe 74), who has been playing the same kind of straight, hard jazz for more than 50 years...