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Word: regretably (lookup in dictionary) (lookup stats)
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...Rockefeller Institute Biochemist O.T. Avery, who demonstrated in 1944 that deoxyribonucleic acid (DNA) is the carrier of heredity, was first denied a prize because of skepticism about his claims. His death permanently excluded him from the Nobel roster; the award cannot be granted posthumously. Later, Nobel officials announced their regret at having rejected Avery...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: Science: The Overlooked | 9/25/1978 | See Source »

...achieve this or you have to achieve that.' --I would have flunked out long ago. My number one goal has always been to enjoy myself. Harvard is an experience that only 1500 people a year get to have. As down as I've been at times I never regret coming here...

Author: By Bill Scheft, | Title: Here's Looking at Ya, Brownie | 9/11/1978 | See Source »

What's amazing to me now, although I no longer regret being at Harvard, is how little I actually thought about the place, or any school for that matter, when I was applying to colleges. I came from a notoriously reputable suburban high school, and it was simply assumed by everyone, myself included, that I would end up here. Sibling rivalry probably had a role, too; when I was accepted I didn't feel happy, just relieved. But I never really considered what i wanted out of college, or where I wanted to be. If you do well at Scarsdale...

Author: By Andrew Multer, | Title: Down But Not Out at Harvard | 9/1/1978 | See Source »

...London and her seaworthiness has been approved by the U.S. Bureau of Standards. But the student now finds himself plaintively inquiring, over the tiny walkie-talkie set: "Even if I'm submerged, can I still loosen the bubble and swim free?" Jacobson's voice shows nice regret as he replies, "Not unless the whole sub is filled with water...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: In Rhode Island: Rapture of the Shallows | 8/21/1978 | See Source »

...listen, too: who is it that intrudes here? Who is breathing? I pick a fern to see its spores, cast it away, and am filled in that instant with misgiving: the great sins, so the Sherpas say, are to pick wildflowers and to threaten children. My voice murmurs its regret, a strange sound that deepens the intrusion. I look about me - who is it that spoke? And who is listening? Who is this 'I' that is not always me? The voice of a solitary bird asks the same question...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: Books: Zen and the Art of Watching | 8/7/1978 | See Source »

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