Word: sit
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Dates: during 1940-1949
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...What happened? His father was Albert, le roi chevalier, and his popularity put the boy completely in the shade. Then Leopold got married, and his bride turned out to be Astrid, one of the prettiest princesses you ever saw. She used to wheel her babies right through the park, sit down with the other mothers and talk diapers and formulas. She got so popular that the prince was in the shade again. Then his father was killed climbing a mountain, and right after that Astrid was killed in an automobile accident while he was driving. And then, by God, Leopold...
...ideal." Wellesley's 1,600 girls would probably agree. They would find in their new president a lively first lady who scorns bridge and refuses to take up knitting. But she can read Scott by the hour ("no problems, no psychoses"), plays the violin, and can make students sit up and take notice when she lectures on American history...
...long and often stormy banking & business career, big, bull-necked old A. P. Giannini had retired officially at least three times. But he had too much energy to sit still; unofficially he went right on working so hard at his Bank of America that friends knew there was only one way he would really retire. A month ago, as he passed his 79th birthday, A.P. confided to a reporter that it would be his last. A.P., who had been right so many times before, was right this time...
...crews back to the physical peak necessary to end their season unbeaten. Bolles has a more humane theory of how to coach a crew than his Yale counterpart, Allen, Walz, a devotee of the work-em-till-they-drop school of though. While Harvard crewmen are allowed to sit around and dissipate most of the winter, the hardy Elis are out on the river, simulating Washington crossing the Delaware. Theoretically, this will make them strong to the point of invincibility come the Harvard-Yale four mile pull in 'late June. It doesn't seem...
...particularly hateful; without his family, which was in the country, Dostoevsky felt lost. He suffered from nightmares in which his little girl was flogged to death as she piteously cried, "Mamochka! Mamochka!" His only solace was a girl who read proof for The Citizen. They would sit up late, reading galleys over a kerosene lamp and arguing about God and Russia. Sometimes he would explode in fits of rage, pounding the table and shouting "The Antichrist is coming! . . . The end of the world is near at hand...