Word: smile
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Dates: during 1960-1969
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...tired, drawn figure rose wearily in his seat in Brazil's Senate chamber and switched on a microphone. Gone was the familiar exuberance, the wall-to-wall smile. "I am overcome by the most terrible sadness I have ever known in my whole public life," said Brazil's onetime President. "In the expectancy that the cancellation of my political rights, and therefore my rights as a citizen, will be confirmed, I believe it is my duty to direct a few words to the Brazilian nation...
...Like a Marble. "If nothing happens to upset that natural ability," says Mele, "Tony can be one of the game's great hitters." Only one bad thing seems remotely likely to happen to Oliva: choking on a chuckle. A gold tooth gleams in his constant smile, and his laugh explodes like a marble popping out of a bottle of ginger ale. Tony's English is still practically nonexistent, and he is just beginning to learn his teammates' names. "Big Powder," he calls fellow Cuban Vic Power...
...well, that is just too much to ask. One day, recalls Power, the Twins were debating the merits of Cleveland Pitcher Mudcat Grant. "Tony say, 'Who is this Mudcat? Who is Mudcat?' I tell him, 'Why, you just got two hits off him.' Tony just smile. He don't know Mudcat. He don't know Bob Feller. He don't know Ty Cobb. He don't know nothing. He just smile and show that gold tooth...
...wearing yellow, or lavender, or green, or rose, or some other color, never anything she has ever worn before or will again. The audience surges forward. She crosses the sidewalk in seven steps or three seconds. Hamlet follows her, not all that melancholy.* She flashes a sudden dazzling, billiondollar smile and slips into the limousine purring in wait at the curb. It pulls out slowly, flanked by mounted policemen on either side, and creeps leisurely down the center of the street. From the back seat she smiles again, lifts a hand and delivers a wave the way Elizabeth II never...
...fellow poet, Rainer Maria Rilke. Rilke did not look like Santa Claus-more like the man who shot him. Beneath a nobly domed forehead, pale eyes glared out from a meanly featured face. This repellent countenance would on rare occasions be relieved by an unpleasant smile. Yet for all his unprepossessing appearance, he had the pride of Lucifer himself. He insisted on his aristocratic descent...