Word: moans
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...What a brilliant piece of writing from Lev Grossman. I don't yet own an iPhone, but I plan to in the near future. Like Grossman, I'm sick of the sour grapes from naysayers who moan about what the iPhone doesn't do and ignore what it does do and just how well it does it. I hate my conventional cell phone with its 100-page, four-language manual that I can't begin to understand. I've used the iPhone without having to look at the manual. And the only language required is intuition. Brad Cathey, Wheaton, Illinois...
What a brilliant piece of writing from Lev Grossman. I don't yet own an iPhone, but I plan to in the near future. Like Grossman, I'm sick of the sour grapes from naysayers who moan about what the iPhone doesn't do and ignore what it does do and just how well it does it. I hate my conventional cell phone with its 100-page, four-language manual that I can't begin to understand. I've used the iPhone without having to look at the manual. And the only language required is intuition...
International students (foreigners!) like to bitch and moan about how hard it is for them to get the visas they need to work in this country. I say, tough beans. We Americans were here first, back when the land was, from sea to shining sea, empty of people (and of everything else, except giant blue oxen). We sowed the Great Plains and tamed the Badlands and carved out the path of the winding Colorado, and I don’t want to hear a peep out of anyone trying to steal American jobs and American food from the American mouths...
...debate, who can fault Indian writers for taking on the challenge? Nor is it a shock that both Davidar and Vassanji live abroad - distance often allows writers to see their homes more clearly than those still living there. The real surprise is that there are still people who moan that books about India written by expatriates and émigrés are less important or less genuinely Indian. India is a nation of diaspora, and Indians are masters at adapting to new environments while remaining passionately attached to their own culture, no matter where they...
...Violand dove under a desk as Cho began systematically shooting people, almost in rhythm, taking his time. "After every shot I thought, 'O.K., the next one is me,'" Violand said, so he made himself lie perfectly still, lifeless. "Sometimes after a shot I would hear a quick moan, or a slow one, or a grunt, or a quiet, reserved yell from one of the girls. After some time--I couldn't tell you if it was five minutes or an hour--he left. The room was silent except for the haunting sound of moans, some quiet crying and someone muttering...