Word: staleness
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Dates: during 1930-1939
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...quieted. He walked the floor thinking of all the damned stupid calls he would have to make. He couldn't find a sharp razor blade and his eyes smarted. He cut himself painfully on the lip, and couldn't find a shoe-horn. The coffee always tasted stale the way he made it, and he away fried the eggs too long so that they were greasy and brown. The morning paper wouldn't stay propped up against the sugar-bowl. Perfunctorily, he pecked his wife goodbye on the cheek,. hoping that she wouldn't wake...
Last week a lean, ragged, jabbering man fell on his knees before the village church at Coggia. A cross dangled on his chest, a crude crown of twigs sat on his tangled hair. Hoarse with a stale fear, he shouted. "What have I done?" A peasant saw that it was Andre Spada, alone and half-witted. Peasants tugged at his elbow to make him rise and hide from the police. Spada pushed them away, rose and wandered about in a daze, jabbering to himself until gendarmes took him away...
...hours later the anxious family was awakened by a faint, insistent mewing. Mr. Herrick traced the cries to the backyard of his next-door neighbor, Broker John Parkinson Jr. Pushing aside a loose fence paling, he beheld a specially-designed cat trap containing Timothy and the remains of some stale fish...
...Most officials deny any famine exists, but a few minutes following one such denial in a train I chanced to throw away a stale piece of my private supply of bread. Like a shot a peasant dived to the floor, grabbed the crust and devoured it. The same performance was repeated later with an orange peel. Even transport and G. P. U. officers warned me against traveling over the countryside at night because of the numbers of starving, desperate men. . . . A foreign expert who returned from Kazakstan told me that 1,000,000 of the 5,000,000 of inhabitants...
...their leg muscles on treadmills, sweat off fat in a straw box, have their heads shampooed by trainers. Two to three weeks before fighting they spar in spurs covered with leather rolls. Oldtime English trainers fed their fowl a diet of seeds, plants, bark and roots, washed down with stale beer and ale, white wine, sack gin and whiskey. Thirsty trainers drank the mixture themselves, called it cock-bread-ale, cock-ale or cocktails...