Word: quilled
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...Mike Quill, raucous president of the C.I.O. Transport Workers Union, and a backslid Communist Party-liner, announced that he was ready to charter the first police union in New York City history and that he was busy organizing New York's 18,600 cops. He promised that his union would not strike, but on that point city officials did not trust Quill...
...could be gayer than Chekhov in his gay moments, but his deeper, sadder convictions were never concealed for long. "For 25 years," he complained, "they tear a man to shreds, and then they come and present him with a quill pen made of aluminum." He had little faith in any triumph of human goodness. "In nature," he assured Bunin, "a repulsive caterpillar turns into a lovely butterfly. But with human beings it's the other way round...
...lean winter of 1775-76, when good generals were as scarce as good shoes in the Continental Army, John Adams, delegate to the Continental Congress, picked up his quill, penned an unusual tribute to one of them. "The Congress have seen such a necessity of an able commander in Canada, as to destine you for that most arduous service . . . We want you at N. York-we want you at Cambridge-we want you in Virginia...
...older and more experienced British unionists, whose power in the labor world was once undisputed, clearly resented being crowded by what seemed to them young upstarts, with pushing ways, loud ties and big, expensive cigars. They were annoyed especially when Mike Quill, truculent boss of the U.S. Transport Workers and a professional Irishman, blurted that Northern Ireland was "a slave state...
...Caribbean, halting, as the whim seized him, in a tent in the desert, a palace in Portugal or an old house in Constantinople. He carried around with him a trunkful of objets d'art, including a bronze bull, his own novels bound in white vellum, some colored quill-pens, a "vast tortoiseshell crucifix" and stacks of "those large blue rectangular postcards" on which he wrote both his novels and correspondence ("Tomorrow I go to Hayti," crooned one such card to Sir Osbert. "They say the President is a Perfect Dear...