Word: skins
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Dates: during 1930-1939
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Despite Duke Borea d'Olmo centenarian zeal, the three royal special trains were an hour late in reaching Assisi; a thunderstorm burst; Princess Giovanna dropped her bridal bouquet into the gutter; Tsar Boris was soaked to the skin; during the ceremony tear after tear coursed down the cheeks of the bride...
...clamorous cavortings, Mr. Benjamin De Casseres bursts once again into a display of orgiastic literary criticism. First giving Mr. Mencken a substantial boost into Olympus, he then proceeds to disclose the very thinly covered bones of Mr. George Bernard Shaw with a withering clarity and veracity that is closely skin to genius. Blaring forth his ideas in a prose that is the essence of strength and polish, he never leaves the reader a moment to catch his breath, but rushes him along through a host of coruscating criticism that is as trenchant as it is illogical. But then logic...
Most of the attacks were made at dusk or on moonlight nights. Several correspondents wrote that the birds had swooped close to their heads, had only snapped their beaks before darting away. The majority of victims, however, had actually been struck with beak or claws. Frequently the skin was painfully lacerated. One correspondent wrote that he knew a lumberjack who had suffered from a clawed neck for several months. In Louisiana, a Negro complained that an owl had gouged his eye out. The birds in one U. S. town developed a peculiar antipathy for policemen, made frequent passes at their...
...blossom in the three subsequent days of its Washington meeting was dissension over the scope of its inquiry. One group of Commissioners wanted to go to what Commissioner Mackintosh called the "guts" of Prohibition? i. e., the enforceability of the 18th Amendment. Other commissioners wished to examine only the skin, study only enforcement procedure. When, after the first day's wrangle, Chairman Wickersham again received newsmen, his spirits seemed less buoyant. Guardedly he declared...
...curly black hair that is clotted with blood and dirt, they pluck at the rim of the wound. His torn brain pulses, partly exposed-like a red brown overcrusted cushion filling and deflating in frantic recurrence. . . . His head is a black lump with bloodstreams trickling down. His skin hangs in ribbons; it is scorched and smells of burning. . . . Thus they lie, rows of them, on hay, on mattresses-ravaged entrails, burst bladders, shattered lungs, lacerated throats, iron-studded skulls-the irretrievable ones. . . . Let it not be thought that these are just isolated horrors, sensational but only occasional instances of pain...