Word: silents
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Dates: during 1960-1969
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...devour crops. As a farmer's helper, pesticides increase crop yields, hence profits. But poison is blind. Loosed annually by the ton from planes, boats, trucks, tractors and handy spray cans, it cannot isolate its target. Since Rachel Carson exposed the pesticides' threat seven years ago, in Silent Spring, evidence of the chemicals' pernicious effects on birds, plants, fish, animals and occasionally man has continued to grow. Yet little in the way of effective control has been attempted- until...
...Bhashani is the most severe single threat to a fragile peace brought to the troubled and geographically divided land by the imposition of martial law. Under fear of harsh penalties, Pakistan's other politicians, including Bhashani's chief Bengali rival, moderate Sheik Mujibur Rahman, have kept silent. Not Bhashani, who continues to receive newsmen and followers at his bamboo-walled hut. "What have I to fear?" he asked TIME Correspondent Dan Coggin, as he adjusted his soiled straw skull cap and straightened the green sweater that he wore inside out. "I would welcome being hanged for my people...
...were returning from Peterborough in a newly rented jeep. Tim drove fast and the scenery zoomed by us. Neither of us had been in a jeep before, and we were enjoying the ride. New England villages unfolded in the distance, like Grandma Moses paintings, and we remained silent and let the chill exhilirate...
...later, we were outside and Tim was taking me for a ride on a ski-doo (a snowmobile), which had been rented for the purpose of hauling camera equipment between the cars and the cabin. I didn't know what kind of ride to expect from Tim, who was silent as always, and not one for excess. So, as the ski-doo started to roar, and Tim drove off wildly--almost hysterically--into the mist, the forest, the hills, I was scared. Trees appeared out of nowhere; the cold air slapped me in the face at every turn. Soon, after...
Three of these remarkable beasts stood last week, grazing or reflectively chewing their cud, in a rectangular pasture that was actually a blue-lit room in Manhattan's Whitney Museum. The dim light evoked the ambience of a silent desert night, but what chiefly provided the mood-a wonderfully eerie mood of austere melancholy-was the shambling, work-scarred beasts. Their hair was realistically matted, their baleful glass eyes shaded by the camel's peculiar glamour-girl eyelashes. One even wore a camel's remote, superior smile...