Word: notebook
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Dates: during 1940-1949
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...notes in his folder and was stepping off his stand. A perplexed hush followed. Vag looked around, a bit puzzled, but nobody moved. Pink and purple argyles, he thought, was this a last class? Still nobody moved, but Vag decided to risk a gambit and slapped his notebook closed with a loud crack. It was the right thing to do, for right away his row was clapping and the whole class caught on when the professor reached the door. Dr. Fairexam (office hours Mondays and Fridays) footnoted the applause with a smile and Vag congratulated himself for his foresight...
...played with the idea as he flipped his notebook from hand to hand. A committee to solve all conflicts! In his hazy mind's eye, he imagined a crowd watching the news roll around the Times Tower and yelling II, IV, VI, VIII, who do we appreciate? So simple too--give each problem a number and get everlasting peace. Vag hurried to reach University Hall before his white hope had faded...
Wearing a green carnation in his buttonhole, President Truman walked briskly into the great House chamber. In face of a cold audience of Representatives and Senators, he flipped open a brown notebook and read from it. Though he looked like a man who was in a hurry to be off to a St. Patrick's Day parade, the President had something to say; he said it as earnestly and forcefully as he could. He issued a call to arms...
Asserting that "We're business-like but informal," he wasted no time getting down to work. The system was simple; he would scan the textbook (Binkley's "Realism and Nationalism") page by page and dictate a condensation of the material, slowly enough for me to copy into my notebook...
...Through all his grumbles and rising gorges, Edward Lear painted furiously. He rose before dawn, trudged about all day until he found a landscape that pleased him. Then, after myopically surveying the scene over his spectacles, he began his hasty sketches on odd-shaped scraps of paper from his notebook. His watercolor sketches were meant mostly to be notes for his fastidious and stilted oils, over which he labored long and hard ("I hate the act of painting. . . . It is like grinding my nose off!"). A few of the oils rode into the Royal Academy on the coattails...