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...friends (who call him Tom or "Old Possum"), T. S. Eliot is a considerate, avuncular Puck who writes rhymes about cats to entertain their children and likes to address letters in verse ("Postman, propel thy feet/And take this note to greet / The Mrs. Hutchinson / Who lives in Charlotte Street . . ."). Eliot is a devoted Sherlock Holmes fan, is apt to emerge from his room clad in Holmesian dressing gown and slippers, and address his startled friend: "My dear Hayward, I am put in-mind of the incident in Bosnia, at the time of our struggle with the Professor over the Crown...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: REFLECTIONS: Mr. Eliot | 3/6/1950 | See Source »

...scoop and used to run a turbine and drive the fuel pump. The rest is mixed with fuel and fired by a small flame that burns in the shelter of the conical igniter. The hot gases roar out through a nozzle lined with heat-resistant ceramic. Their reactions propel the machine through space...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: Science: Well-Behaved Engine | 2/20/1950 | See Source »

Lowenstein, whose weight and height both considerably increase when he puts on football cleats, is the little man who played such a large hand on last season's freshman team. By hand or by foot, he can propel the ball with admirable accuracy...

Author: By William S. Fairfield, | Title: Valpey's Squad, With 4 New Faces, Practices Under Game Conditions | 4/26/1949 | See Source »

...clock tomorrow morning, about 280 members of a senior class of 350 will gather in flat-hats and discreetly pinned-up graduation gowns to roll their hoops and propel their forms across the hilly Waban track...

Author: NO WRITER ATTRIBUTED | Title: Wellesley Hoops Set to Roll | 4/30/1948 | See Source »

...vehicle selected to bear this man of nonviolence on his last journey was a weapons carrier. Those in charge of the arrangements, recalling Gandhi's opposition to machines, did not let the weapons carrier's motor propel it; men with ropes dragged it through New Delhi's streets. The men were soldiers, and soldiers headed the cortege. Police, about whom Gandhi also had had his doubts, lined the streets. Overhead, military airplanes, built to drop bombs on people Gandhi loved, dropped rose petals on Gandhi's bier. Tanks and armored cars rumbled behind...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: SAINTS & HEROES: Of Truth and Shame | 2/9/1948 | See Source »

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