Word: moments
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Dates: during 1930-1939
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...contemplation of Nature's simple beauty. A student, weighty with books yet light with joy and good feeling, smiled at a little, rosy-checked lass who was patting the snow with her red-mittened hands. The sweet innocence on her round face made him wistful, and for a moment he lost his carefree look. But to show his supreme faith in childhood, he stooped down, pinched her check, and walked on with a sigh. Two seconds later he was stopped dead by the plop of a snowball in the back of his neck and an carsplitting whine, as though some...
...believes that the only way to appreciate the Bard of Aven is to act in his plays, make them a part of you, and put them across to an audience. From experience, he finds that you put yourself at a disadvantage if you declaim the lines, and the moment that you start to believe what you're saying, the audience will...
...down, Frank passed again, this time from Harvard's 48-yd. line. Sprinting down the field, Kelley turned his head at the 10-yd. line and found the ball where it belonged, right above his shoulder. He tucked it under his arm, sprinted across the goal line. A moment later, Humphrey's place-kick brought what turned out to be the winning point...
When Caulaincourt arrived at Essonnes, he found Ragusa acting queerly. An emissary from the Allied field headquarters nearby had arrived at the same moment. Puzzled Caulaincourt ran down to the courtyard to see about getting through the Allied lines, found when he returned that Ragusa was involved in mysterious negotiations with the enemy. But Ragusa was one of Napoleon's most trusted officers. "No one," the Emperor said, "inspires me with more confidence." Worried, Caulaincourt hustled Ragusa into a carriage and carried him on to Paris. The emissaries stopped at Allied field headquarters on the way. There Ragusa raced...
...dignified Roman death he had courted, he spent the night vomiting, begging Caulaincourt to give him another potion, spinning out his disconnected, feverish explanation of his rise and fall. Ending with this bitter scene, Caulaincourt's memoirs have an almost symphonic symmetry: they begin at the moment of the Empire's greatest strength and trace its collapse in the swirl of defeats, treacheries, frustrations, massed chances, which followed one another faster than the imagination could encompass them...