Word: sore
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...beaten road there is tolerable travelling; but it is sore work, and many have to perish, fashioning a path through the impassable." Those for whom the lure of the Big City grows insuperable as the weekend approaches have taken refuge for many years in these words of Carlyle as they sought their way through the tortuous sidestreets of New Haven...
...esteem was that the girl he loved in his boyhood became a popular novelist and wrote a book in which he found himself pictured as a tough guy, with quaint phrases and vague literary aspirations. It was true enough to make him wince and wrong enough to make him sore. Readers may feel somewhat the same way about The Best of Intentions. Its artificiality lies in the vagueness and unreality of Joe Moreton apart from, his adolescent and middle-aged embarrassments. The latter may have been real enough, but they are less than the whole of life, even in Manhattan...
...dire peril, the two crossed over the river and met together, the one unto the other; and there was a great multitude gathered there when the two reached the nearer bank of the river, which shouted aloud for the honor of the two contestants, that they had prevailed through sore injury and defeat, even through the heat of the middle west and the hostility of the tribes of Boston...
...packed, floodlit Bundestag hall, Chancellor Konrad Adenauer delivered a keynote speech listing Germany's major concerns: the P.W.s held by Russia, the Oder-Neisse boundary deal which ceded a large part of Eastern Germany to Poland, the dismantling of German plants. He also touched on the sore spot of denazification. "The truly guilty," he said, "must be severely punished, but beyond that we can no longer have two classes of people in Germany-the politically reliable and the politically unreliable...
...Table. One day a troubled woman had an audience with Réal, who sat at the round table with his father, munching candy and playing with a plastic toy automobile. "Mon petit Réal," the woman pleaded, "my kidneys make me very sore at night. What shall I do?" "Big old fool," snapped Réal, "I am fed up. You have a cancer." He ran from the room shouting to his father: "We are going to have 700 cars Sunday. Money will come in, eh, Papa?" Papa pulled the boy back into the room...