Word: slim
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Dates: during 1950-1959
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...before his birthday, slim, stooped Editor Hunter plodded through six inches of snow in search of news. His red-rimmed eyes shone brightly through his glasses, grey hair poked out from under a battered fedora, and he needed a shave. Spotting a friend, Hunter, who is deaf, gave a high-pitched shout: "Any news, Bill?" Then Hunter handed him a scratch pad and a pencil. While Bill jotted down the news, Hunter read over his shoulder, now & then shouting fresh questions until he had pumped his informant...
...serious artist. "I'm not yet sure it's true," he says. "I think that as long as I go on building my work will stand, but that if I ever stop it may fall like a house of cards." The chances of his stopping are slim; Koerner now lives largely for his painting and his Manhattan exhibitions have sold well enough (up to $3,000 for an oil) to keep him comfortable. Divorced, he lives alone in a railroad apartment in Brooklyn, the furniture painted with gay floral patterns by himself. On the living-room mantel...
However badly his description may fit some of poetry's modern navel-contem-platers, Britain's Poet Laureate at least has remained true to his credo. From the day in 1902 when his first slim volume of Salt-Water Ballads rolled off a London press, John Masefield the poet has kept close companionship with the hearts of a generation of British and U.S. readers. In rhythms as forthright as the beat of a yeoman's pulse and lines as graceful as the curtsy of a tall East Indiaman in the wallow of a seaway, his verses have...
...coming of war brought an abrupt end to such pleasures, and the Hillman and its slim, spirited driver were kept busy dispatching Attlee on his wartime duties. Then came peace, and in 1945 Violet Attlee took the wheel of the Hillman to drive her husband over the length and breadth of Britain as he campaigned. One day soon after the election, Violet drove the new Prime Minister to Buckingham Palace to kiss King George's hand...
Stranger in the House. One of the few citizens of Loudun who seemed beyond suspicion of any intrigue was slim, soft-spoken Marie Besnard, a matron of 53, who owned six houses in the town, the local White Horse inn, and a number of thriving stud farms. Marie had acquired property the easy way through the deaths of a succession of relatives and her purse strings were always loosened when M. le Curé came to call with a worthy charity in mind. Marie, said the people of Loudun, was "the only woman in town who could go to communion...