Word: sadnesses
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Dates: during 1960-1969
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...eight weeks this summer, Head Start will try to make some headway against the sad fact that too many children are not emotionally, psychologically or physically ready to bridge the gap between crowded, repressive homes, where they are told to shut up, and the public school, where they are asked to open up and learn. The project puts kids of four, five, and six into "child development centers," where under close personal attention they will be encouraged by simple successes to avoid the spiral of failure that often starts with school's first day. They will have physical examinations...
...Roman philosopher Seneca came to a sad end. Spurred by patriotism, he came out of exile to tutor Emperor Claudius' unstable stepson Nero and was rewarded for his pains several years later when his onetime student ordered him to commit suicide. At least Nero recognized greatness; ordinary mortals died by torture when a shadow crossed the Emperor's demented brain. In this threadbare, novelistic pastiche, Vincent Sheean treats Seneca far worse. Though the historical Seneca was second only to Cicero as an exponent of Stoicism, Sheean's Seneca has only windy self-pity and a maundering facility...
...life of the housewife is sad...
Blood on the Trigger. No one had an accurate count of the casualties. Caamaño claimed 67 dead, close to 200 wounded. That might be an exaggeration, but the casualties were obviously heavy. In the rebel zone, TIME Correspondent Mo Garcia reported a sad, ugly scene. In Padre Billini Hospital, four dead rebels lay along a hallway; another seven were stacked in a small room. Both operating rooms were full, and one of the two washrooms had been converted for emergency service. On a table in the morgue lay a two-year-old boy caught in a crossfire...
Some of the biggest names in British exports are double-barreled: Rolls-Royce, Mini-Minor, Terry-Thomas. Even without the hyphen, the actor's face would probably have made his name familiar the world over. Its features are a bounderish British blend of sad sack and pukka sahib: busby brows that shoot up in startled innocence or beetle down with Mac the Knife malevolence; lugubrious eyes rocketing around like apoplectic billiard balls; a Scotch-sodden thatch of mustache, and, of course, those two front teeth, gaping wide as Becher's Brook. Wherever he takes a stroll, from Soho...