Word: quiets
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...Kathleen Miller scored a hat trick for the Tigers. Princeton scored four more goals before the Harvard got on the board again. Finally, junior attack Tara Schoen stopped the Tigers’ streak, scoring for the Crimson to cut the lead to 9-2. However, Princeton would not stay quiet for long. The Tigers fired off more goals the halftime whistle to send Harvard into its team meeting down 13-2. While it was too little, too late, the second half went better for the Crimson. Martin scored her second goal of the game off an assist from junior attack...
...observer, Ignatius would have come to understand his fellow human beings. Sadly, that is not the case. Ignatius gives us caricatures, not characters. Alice, the supposedly enlightened American liberal who is truly not enlightened at all, is almost unreadable. “He’s kind of quiet, but really sweet,” she says of a co-worker. “Has this cute mark on his forehead from praying so much.” Her words drip with this oblivious (and agonizing to read) condescension. Gretchen is almost comical in her one-dimensionality. All she wants...
...newfound, ramped-up energy doesn’t come at the expense of their gentler, more melodic side. In fact, the opening guitar strumming of “I-95” positively channels the Beatles’ “Across the Universe,” while the quiet and sweet “Michael and Heather at the Baggage Claim” is a perfect little theme for lovebirds on the go. All in all, “Traffic and Weather” is more than a solid effort. Granted, its thematic ideas border on gimmicky at times...
...protest-loudly-any perceived backsliding by Japan on its acceptance of guilt for World War II abuses. Yet, last month, when Prime Minister Shinzo Abe denied Japan's wartime army had forced tens of thousands of Asian women into sexual slavery, igniting an international furor, Beijing stayed conspicuously quiet. China's diplomatic silence was the latest sign of an unexpected thaw in the two nations' often icy relationship...
...private members' club, the Press Room has formed a promising enclave of gentrification in a hitherto overlooked part of Central district, luring happy-hour drinkers in their suited scores. The sociable manager, Matthew Siegel, beckons me from a packed bar out onto the street and down to a quiet doorway some meters yonder. It reminds me of going for a cigarette in the old days, but this time the pleasures are more sublime...