Word: plodded
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...dense jungles of Sarapiqui, northeast of San Jose, that U.S. hunters are heading. There, packs of as many as 1,000 wild pigs grunt through the bush, uprooting and trampling all the foliage in their path. Timid, 600-lb. tapirs-distant relatives of the African rhinoceros-plod warily along the narrow, muddy trails. Chachalacas, parrots and howler monkeys noise endlessly from the tree tops...
...Englishman is very funny. But by the time Amis lets his ployman homeward plod his weary way, the reader finds his heart wrung with pity. In a puzzling way, the appalling Roger has endeared himself. It is not just that Roger himself in odd moments has recognized that he is a pretty dreadful character. "Very angst-producing, being a snob," he confesses to his mistress. Something deeper is involved. The secret may be that the totally selfish man is pathetic as well as detestable; Roger has some of the heartbreaking quality present in the rapt self-absorption of a child...
Married since 1958, Stars Newman and Woodward here celebrate their fifth picture together. They are an attractive and talented pair, but the Lunts in their heyday could not have saved this one. So many men's-room jokes to memorize. So many interludes of leaden-footed fantasy to plod through. If A New Kind of Love didn't take the magic out of their marriage, Mr. and Mrs. Newman are odds-on to become the sweetest little old couple in Hollywood...
Soon Scandalous John and Paco, mounted on two broken-down nags, are relentlessly driving Old Blue up the Chisum Trail toward the distant stock yards. For weeks through sun, sand and storm, they plod onward, encountering temptation and incomprehension. Nearly everybody along the way tries to persuade John to desist. As for the neatly laid-out fences that block their path, he blithely cuts them. "If you want to get some place in this world," he says, "you've got to cut fence now and again . . . The extent of a man's fences is the extent...
...most of Cairo remains the same: close, crowded and cacophonous with hard-pressed auto horns. In Imbaba, on the west bank of the Nile, camels streaked with henna still plod unknowingly toward the slaughterhouse, and gully-gully men delight bright-eyed, brown-faced children with magic tricks as they did their grandfathers 50 years ago. Imbaba's junk market is still unchanged, and bent nails and half-shoelaces are traded with solemnity and diligence. The red flowerpot of the tarboosh has all but vanished from Cairenes' heads, and Nasser has even made considerable progress in his campaign...