Word: sat
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Dates: during 1950-1959
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Hawks Through Peepholes. One day last week, Burke warmly greeted a visitor to his office. He sat behind his small desk, puffed on his battered pipe, and, while Filipino stewards served coffee, talked easily. The gentle, almost ingenuous, fagade was deceptive: watching like hawks from behind one-way peepholes at each end of the office were Burke's aides. They knew that they would soon be struck by a blizzard of memos, ideas and questions, all growing out of Burke's seemingly casual conversation. It is the same with every conversation Burke...
...Union Square flower bed and praised "one of the greatest civilizations of the world, here on the rim of the Pacific by the Golden Gate." He shook hands in a mixed Negro and Japanese neighborhood, wore a sombrero and scrape and cried "Viva" in a Latin American community, sat at a green-topped table with 16 Chinatown moguls...
Nicholas testified: "I admit I sent two of my children to a colored school because they are dark, and I didn't want to hurt them." When Nicholas desperately produced two tickets to a 1955 rugby game to prove that he sat in the European section, the magistrate looked at the stubs, barked: "Actually, you used Gate Five? Would you deny that the gate you used was the one used to admit colored and Indians?" "III don't know," stammered Nicholas, cringing...
Back home, the DiMaggios sat under their expensive thatch in Beverly Hills night after night with almost nothing to say to each other. They had fights, and on Oct. 4, 1954, nine months after the wedding, they announced that they would be divorced...
...heavily stricken and in darkness," wrote Henry James to a friend in the summer of 1910. His "ideal elder brother," Philosopher William James, had just died, and at 67, Henry was the sole survivor of four James brothers and one sister. As he sat down to write his autobiography, James must have felt that the face of life had not really smiled on him for two decades. His plays had pitiably flopped. At the opening-night curtain of one of them he was hooted off the London stage. His late novels, with their labyrinthine sentences and ideas, scarcely sold...