Word: objection
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Dates: during 1940-1949
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...synthetic hatred. They can be effectively lost that way, as Hitler will find out. This nation had better take its chance of winning, not by glandular virus, but by clear thinking, positive purpose and intelligently disciplined will. . . . Hatred is not something that discharges itself upon one object and then conveniently disappears. It is a poison in the blood, an emotional debauch. . . . People who should get the habit of hating all German Nazis . . . would get so that they would just have to hate somebody...
Headmaster of Bishopshalt is short, white-haired John Miles, M.A., LL.B. (Cambridge), a tolerant, popular scholar whose only teaching job is religious instruction to the older pupils. The classes are nondoctrinal "on the basis of the Bible" and are not demanded of Catholic and Jewish pupils whose parents object. Miles normally has a staff of some 15 men and 12 women teachers, all of whom must have honors degrees from a major university. Teachers' salaries conform to a national scale: for men, ?234 ($945) at start, ?480 ($1,939) maximum...
...announcement that they had "completed their plans for the offensive campaigns of 1943" sounded like no overstatement of the facts. But even as the President and the Prime Minister met, their military task was changing. Their first object in Europe and Africa had been to relieve the Red Army of German pressure; it was now to capitalize upon the Red Army's successes (see p. 30). Continuously on the offensive since the war's start, Germany was suddenly on the defensive-a defensive which may be nevertheless strong and hard to crack. Essentially, the Allies' task...
Wrote Jefferson: "This was the object of the Declaration of Independence: Not to find out new principles or new arguments never before thought of ... but to place before mankind the common sense of the subject, in terms so plain and firm as to command their assent. ... It was intended to be an expression of the American mind...
...tried to free himself from the wreek of the three legged ed room chair. Trying to find a safe spot in the day-light was bad enough, but in a blackout--Vag swore softly. Then the match went out. Slightly scorched, Vag disencumbered himself and grasped the nearest solid object to heave himself up. With a groan the table collapsed, spilling comment books about him. That was the last straw. The paper should wait. Vag groped for the comment book, and propping himself securely in the corner, started at the pages by the dim light of his last match...