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Word: moaned (lookup in dictionary) (lookup stats)
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...sexist. It also incorporates the words of moderns like Alfred North Whitehead and Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel and these lines from William Blake: "It is an easy thing to laugh at wrathful elements,/ To hear the dog howl at the wintry door, the ox in the slaughter house moan;/ To see a god on every wind & a blessing on every blast...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: Religion: Reform Rites | 11/3/1975 | See Source »

...interested. Neither, as it turned out, were the teachers. At an afternoon meeting of the union's 1,270-member delegate assembly, teachers stood up one after another and told horror stories. One reported that she had 60 pupils in her class-"six-oh"-and elicited a loud moan of sympathy. A first-grade teacher related how she spent the morning escorting her 48 pupils to the bathroom. Others told how strangers were able to wander around school corridors, no longer deterred by the guards, who had been laid...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: The Nation: Teachers: In a Striking Mood | 9/22/1975 | See Source »

...Briggs stared at the road ahead and drove fast paMmmmmst the whorehouse of which Pegleg had informed us, and fast up Galena and fast to Ketchum. In the backseat all was quiet except for a few snores from Daniel: the road sucked under soundlessly; the trees didn't moan; there was no wind; the radio crackled, playing "This is the Last Song I'll Sing for You"; the night hung out beyond us; I thought what art from the artless...

Author: By Edmond P.V. Horsey, | Title: Elsewhere in the Summer, at Pegleg Mac's | 8/12/1975 | See Source »

...could rent one," you'd swear she could be Allen with a wig and a nose job. But she lacks the timing of a really good comedian. When she's warned on her first husband's deathbed to remember that "Life goes on," she barely breathes between the moan, "I guess you're right!" and the quip. "Where do we eat?" Keaton pounces on that line like a hungry cat on a tin of smelly mackerel and in this case the bad timing is the joke...

Author: By Irene Lacher, | Title: The Objectively Subjective Woody Allen | 7/8/1975 | See Source »

...THIS NOTION settles in my mind like a scrap of paper: I want to make all thirty miles in thirty minutes. The ungainly metal hull lurches forward, chattering like a rattlesnake, then shifting into a resonant moan. A small cloud of dust churns at my brother's feet--the pavement shows through a hole in the floor of the car--and he glares at it as though that's all that irks...

Author: By Anemona Hartocolhs, | Title: In the '55 Mercury | 3/3/1975 | See Source »

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