Word: sob
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Dates: during 1950-1959
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Just what kind of leaders do they have in the party who whine like a child when the smallest storm arises? Those lackluster politicians who ever since this investigation broke have been sounding like sob sisters trying to make Adams quit -who needs them? CHARLES F. BUTLER North Abington, Mass...
...That isn't the half of it," he returned, with another shudder and the hint of a sob. "Attend, my boy, and you shall hear the whole sad tale of how I have been reduced in the course of half a morning from a young man flushed with the vigor of his bursting prime, to the doddering human wreck you see before you. "It all began at about seven this morning. I was sleeping the sleep of the young and the innocent, as is my custom of a morning, when the phone rang. I got wearily to my feet, staggered...
...writes Harold on a sheet of yellow paper, belongs to the night and together they conspire against Boston. They live illicitly, caress each other with streetlamps and shadows and juke box symphonies, the soft sob of loss, the subway shudder and the sigh. Night warms is black limbs by the gutter fires and furnace spit. We should bottle the night, prone and passive, siphon it into leather canteen flasks, take swigs of it while sunning ourselves by the river, savour it after a French loave-lunch, rub it on our arm in lieu of excrement...
...writes Harold on a sheet of yellow paper, belongs to the night and together they conspire against Boston. They live illicitly, caress each other with streetlamps and shadows and juke box symphonies, the soft sob of loss, the subway shudder and the sigh. Night warms its black limbs by the gutter fires and furnace spit. We should bottle the night, prone and passive, siphon it into leather canteen flasks, take swigs of it while sunning ourselves by the river, savour it after a French loave-lunch, rub it on our arm in lieu of excrement...
...away in voluptuous fantasies of the city, where he would "be myself, be free, be cruel and be rich." But whenever he threatened to break out of the web, his mother would bind him tight again with a pernicious tissue of threats. "The day you leave here," she would sob self-pityingly, "I'm going to die!" As for Suzanne, she cleaned up the worms that fell from the diseased roof into the beds, into the food, and sat staring down the road, wondering if some day her prince would come...