Word: somehows
(lookup in dictionary)
(lookup stats)
Dates: all
Sort By: most recent first
(reverse)
...somehow he doesn't get the next thing he's going for--well, he says, his life is still pretty good. His father still lets him call collect. Junior has a son and daughter of his own, and the family spends off-season in Windermere, Fla., near his friend Tiger Woods. When you're hanging with your All-Star Cafe partners, who notices another record...
Sounds good to me, too--and totally Hollywood. The latter sentiment does not always sink in here; even if they know it's just TV, somehow its distance from reality gets lost in translation. Israel by its very nature has been always looking for ideal worlds; for some, America is it. In some ways that is the worst part: this country is its own answer, with a lot to teach us too. Maybe the lessons can't fit into 30 minutes, but here races and religions have a long and increasingly bright history of cooperation rather than war. Israel...
...Somehow the situation resolved itself, and the crowd returned to its respective territories. Night fell and the fireworks commenced. There were red glares and bursts in the air, and, as the music swelled, the massive crowd cheered the two hundred and twenty second birthday of America and the ideals for which she stands. Life. Liberty. The Pursuit of Happiness...
...somehow failed to assess the ways that feminism has changed the intellectual, legal and political landscape since the late 1960s. Instead you assembled a grab bag of popular-culture effusions that, taken together, form a ghastly caricature that only antifeminists would recognize. TIME also managed to miss the fact that many men call themselves feminists. We're not the wishy-washy cliches of popular culture, either. We simply respect women, oppose attempts to keep them relegated to second-class status and join with women in the cause of equal rights. RICHARD B. BERNSTEIN New York City...
...thousand words, I must have an album by now: so many words, conversations, flowing together; though I'm not sure yet into what kind of coherent picture. The summer after junior year is a strange one, to be sure. The future is nipping impatiently at everyone, questions hovering. Yet somehow July seems to suspend the impendingness of it all. Cambridge lifts itself into a lull of the present--fascinating, at once demanding and infinitely postponable. Nothing becomes more certain; the uncertainties simply become more apparent with time. More apparent, and less troubling, ultimately. Nothing's changed: the same options still...