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Word: rest (lookup in dictionary) (lookup stats)
Dates: during 1960-1969
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Usage:

...justified in classifying the Song My massacre as a "tactic" of the war. The press, by the very quantity of its coverage, implies that the incident is an unprecedented misfortune. Americans can rest assured, therefore, that the whole episode was unique, the work of a handful of deranged criminals who disgrace their uniforms...

Author: By Jeffrey S. Golden, | Title: Atrocities The Song My Tactic | 12/10/1969 | See Source »

Fred Hampton's murder and Mark Clark's murder in Chicago this week are not isolated. Messiah said that if you mourn for Fred you should mourn for the rest of them too. And we should. The bloody trail of legalized slaughter stretches all the way from My Lai to Oakland and now to Chicago...

Author: By Richard E. Hyland, | Title: Murder in America Panthers | 12/10/1969 | See Source »

Over in other sections I caught glimpses of friends. Of all these people, 125 were hired from the Screen Actors' Guild, 125 were specially-recruited students from Harvard-Radcliffe and Brandeis, and the rest were curiosity-seekers who would each get a dollar for dropping in and signing a release in case they actually appeared on film. As it turned out, these dollar people probably got the best deal. The professionals and students were committed for three days of misery. Those benches were hard, and it was much too cold to take off any of the clothes you were fortunate...

Author: By Esther Dyson, | Title: Shooting with the Stars | 12/10/1969 | See Source »

...three days that I was there-and each one lasted longer as the crew tried to keep to its daily schedule-I felt cut off from the rest of the world. There was nothing to do expect read, talk to other people, or go to the bath-rooms to warm...

Author: By Esther Dyson, | Title: Shooting with the Stars | 12/10/1969 | See Source »

...repressed sexual urges in all of us, volunteers to take on the burden of our own sadistic and rebellious reveries; in return, we pay him lots of money and promise not to remember what he does. As long as he gives us a few concrete gestures, the rest doesn't matter; we'll extrapolate from there. His sulking, his mincing, the fluttering eves, the limp wrist are but touch-stones to the structure of our own imaginations. I don't know what happened in New York or the Boston Garden anymore and no one else does either. Perhaps this...

Author: By Joel Haycock, | Title: The flea-bit painted monkey Got Live If You Want It | 12/9/1969 | See Source »

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