Word: skyward
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Dates: during 1950-1959
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...crowd see it. Keeping his ship up in the flare-out, Pilot Howard was easing down toward the runway just over Farmer Joseph Philp's sprouts patch, 600 yards away. Suddenly he felt his wheels touch down-too soon. Ramming his throttles forward, he tried to climb skyward. At that moment the airport greeters had their first horror-stricken sight of the Vulcan, a monstrous shadow in the mists at the runway's threshold. It was in trouble. Pilot Howard passed the word, "Abandon ship!" He and Sir Harry, in their ejector seats, shot upward from the aircraft...
...aircraft show at Farnborough last week had precious little new to show in the way of aircraft. Most of the planes were familar subsonic models, or experimental craft such as Fairey's supersonic Delta, current official speed-record holder (at 1,132 m.p.h.). But while all eyes turned skyward, most of the real stars of Farnborough sat silent in ground exhibits. They were Britain's new aircraft engines. Observed London's Economist: "There are more really good engines in Britain today than there are aircraft for them to drive...
...part of Joan that is the saint--the part that is literally inspired, that feels fierce loyalty to its "voices" and defiance toward the ways of the world. Typically, when the Maid has rejected the restraining advice of the Archbishop, of Dunois, and the Dauphin, she raises "her eyes skyward" and declares: "I have better friends and better counsel than yours." This is a Joan who inevitably rouses the world to hate her and to burn...
...sense Joan goes through the entire play with "her eyes skyward." This is a far different approach from the one which Jean Anouilh and Lillian Hellman took in The Lark--a comparison of the two plays seems both inevitable and intriguing--and dramatically it is a much more difficult approach. Shaw has purposely deprived himself of the spontaneous, natural, earthy Joan who made such an attractive heroine for Anouilh. Instead he has made her a saint--and everyone knows that there is nothing duller than a saint's life...
...Brethren. Every where Nasser went, crowds swarmed upon his car, struggled past policemen's clubs to embrace and kiss him; once he almost disappeared under clutching arms. Before a huge crowd in Cairo's Republic Square, Nasser stretched arms skyward in the glare of powerful spotlights as the cheers beat up at him from the throng, and declaimed: "Victory has come from God. Egypt today is no longer for the occupiers, the usurpers, or the oppressors. Today, oh brethren, Egypt exists for its children...