Word: slenderness
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...author is seated on a sofa in the 12-room apartment on Manhattan's Upper East Side that he shares with Sheila, his wife of 20 years, and their son Tommy, 13. Daughter Alexandra, 18, has flown the nest for her freshman year in college. Wolfe, slender and looking at least a decade shy of his 68 years, wears at home pretty much what he has worn in public since he became a highly visible Manhattan journalist in the '60s: a trademark white suit and vest, a high-necked blue-and-white-striped shirt complemented by a creamy silk necktie...
Sitting in his spare office at Harvard on a recent morning, a small dugout canoe made by his son resting on a nearby table, Howard Gardner talked about his work and the use others have made of it. A slender man with a soft face and hair flopping over his forehead, Gardner looks a bit like the concert pianist he might have been if he had pursued that career. After a long discussion of the merits of his theory, he tried to sum up his views. "Here's a credo I've never stated before," he said. "I'm sure...
...last year in a highly professional contract hit. As the funeral proceeded, city streets were busy, shops and offices were open as usual and few people seemed touched by the event. "I'll catch it on the news," said Lyudmilla Petrova, a shop worker on Nevsky Prospekt. Tanya, a slender 19-year-old in a miniskirt waiting by a chauffeured Mercedes for her businessman boyfriend, said she had not missed a single TV program on the Romanovs all week. "It was so sad," she said, "but it doesn't seem like it happened here--it's like a miniseries...
...After several weeks of rallies, public forums and a candlelight vigil, students vote by a slender margin to return grapes to dining halls. More than 3,000 undergraduates cast ballots in the "Great Grape Referendum," a higher turnout than the last election for the Undergraduate Council...
Well, what else did I have in mind for my twilight years? Not that much. A writer turns 55, the old double nickel, and the slender thread of inspiration has unraveled and you clomp around in circles like an old pony at the pony ride and beautiful women come up and tell you how much their mothers liked something you did in 1975. Your prose style turns flabby. Your work has the shelf life of tropical fish. Compared to that, fathering a baby is sheer nobility, a shot at immortality...