Word: rushing
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Dates: during 1930-1939
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...Arthur, having reduced the Universe to a featureless mass, refuses to let it stay in that condition forever. He shows that the Second Law is, after all, only a statistical law, a mountainous piling up of probability. There is no reason why, sometime, a number of air molecules rushing helter-skelter about a room should not -just by accident-rush into a toy balloon and blow it up. It does not happen because it is too improbable. But the infinity of Time gives the most fantastic improbabilities a chance to happen. Thus, in a featureless Universe existing in infinite Time...
...small number of pedestrians who are naturally adventurous may enjoy lurking behind oblong buses, preparatory to making a blind rush across the street. A few with truly pivotal necks may feel at ease when cars whisk by from all directions. It may even be asserted that Harvard Square training will make this college preeminent in the hundred-yard dash. But the great majority would be content to cross streets without risk to life and limb, and keep before them that great American possibility of becoming president...
Last week in Los Angeles, a furiously embarrassed deputy county clerk delivered to the clerk of California's Supreme Court appeal papers in the case of Rush Griffin, 19-year-old Negro convicted of murdering a medical student. Delivery of an appeal ordinarily brings an automatic stay of execution. Last week's delivery was futile because, while his appeal was lying overlooked in the abashed clerk's files, Rush Griffin had been hanged...
...small esteem for metal tubes and no stomach whatever for a possible public swing in that direction. Philco bought a full page in the New York Times ($4,500) to launch a counterblast. Recalling an ill-starred experiment with metal tubes in Britain, Philco warned that a "pell mell rush" into metal might also have disastrous consequences here. Points...
...long grasses wet with the creek that little pockets of coolness were to be found. So, having run down the hill and across the meadow that lay stretched, still and beaten, in the burning gold of the summer afternoon, she flung herself on the bank in a final rush. Gulping and panting, she raised her small body cautiously and listened. But not a sound of pursuit murmured from the far hill...