Word: queen
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Dates: during 1940-1949
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Some termite species cultivate fungi, feeding their young upon them. If enemies attack the colony, soldier termites rush to repel them. In relation to the colony, individual termites are utterly selfless. They never loaf, never sleep. They are ceaselessly busy in community service. Except for the king & queen, they never fall in love. There is no individualism in a termite colony...
...their pitch-black, hidden tunnels, termites have survived from extreme antiquity. But they have paid a price. None of the colony's members-the blind, scurrying workers, the distorted soldiers, the priapic king and swollen queen-are more than dull automata, the helpless slaves of a strong, though invisible and despotic state...
...Welcome Mat. By air, Paris was only $375 away. Gradually the big North Atlantic liners were coming back into passenger service. The 81,235-ton Queen Mary was still bringing G.I.s and war brides home. But every two weeks she was taking 400 to 500 passengers from New York to London for $212.50. In about seven months the Queen Elizabeth would be in regular North Atlantic service. By mid-summer the French Line hopes to have the Ile de France and DeGrasse running. Before long, the War Shipping Administration hopes to allocate more ships to the Mediterranean and South African...
Died. Prince Barbu Stirbey, 73, "the man behind the palace curtains," longtime intrigued (by Queen Marie) and intriguing (for her) undercover man of old-style Rumanian politics, negotiator of Rumania's surprise armistice in 1944; in Bucharest...
...Shakespearean intensity of the great static closeups, the poetic registrations of emotion, the grandiose, dancelike gestures of the players, broad as bad opera-or Michelangelo. When Ivan's enemies mugged fear, Frenchmen cheerfully shouted: "Cowards!" When the sound track jammed as Ivan received a chess set from Queen Elizabeth, someone in the balcony yelped: "Speech!" In the long scene where Ivan almost dies, the theater rustled with smothered laughter and one strident voice speared up from the dark: "Alors, mon vieux, kick the bucket and we'll all go home...