Word: sakes
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Dates: during 1940-1949
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Shusuke Wada was a nimble, hunchbacked interpreter nicknamed "Running Wada" by the American prisoners he escorted from Manila to Japan. Once, from the steaming hold of the Oryoku Maru came the desperate cry: "For God's sake, Mr. Wada, we must have water! The men are dying. They're drinking their own urine!" Shouted Wada: "If they die, it's no concern of mine." Of the 1,619 prisoners, only 450 survived the trip...
...mean that the U.S. was losing the cold war or that many Germans were turning toward Red salvation. One demonstrator was asked by a correspondent whether he thought it would be better for the Americans to pull out of Germany. Said the worker: "For God's sake, don't leave us. Of course we strike to try to get unity and more food. Who wouldn't? But we don't want the Americans to leave. So dof ist keiner [nobody is that cracked]. Then we would have only the Russians...
...inconsistencies, the latter certainly did, and for such meandering the editors were occasionally taken to task by older, wiser, and more static journals. But, as the editors in the spring of 1917 replied to a criticism of this kind in the old Boston Transcript: "We could not, for the sake of consistency, maintain a policy which in conscience the majority of the board could not support." Three wars, and the aftermath of one of them, are presented in highlight below...
...Product. The world of music had changed radically in the half century since brass bands pumped lugubriously before U.S. saloons and Americans fought mosquitoes at park concerts for the sweet sake of culture. Music was now a product to be seized by machinery, to be packaged, distributed and sold in wholesale lots. Canning and transmitting musical effects was a huge and complicated industry in which the artist, the advertiser, the salesman and the inventor fought ceaselessly for expression and profit. Its impact upon the people of the U.S. and the world was tremendous-it had given them both the Beethoven...
Like most of his literary contemporaries, Stevenson did his utmost to escape from ordinary, everyday life. But he was too little of an esthete to flee into the world of art-for-art's-sake, too much of a romantic to want the grim, bare world of the French realists-a world whose fiction he described, in a rare burst of savagery, as "that meat-market of middle-aged sensuality." After a spell of youthful Bohemianism, Stevenson dropped anchor in his own fair harbor-the world of Treasure Island, Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, The New Arabian Nights...