Word: stoning
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Dates: during 1950-1959
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...world's second largest exporter of copper, fourth largest of tobacco-a land dotted with modern cities and rich in asbestos, coal, lithium, chrome and cobalt. But in the stretch of the Zambesi River Valley, soon to be flooded by the Kariba Dam, the Stone Age Tonga tribe still wear porcupine quills in their noses, and in Northern Rhodesia, Barotseland is regularly plagued by gruesome ritual murders. In the whole federation there are only four Negro physicians and three Negro lawyers, among 7,100,000 blacks. Ever since the federation was formed, the cry of more and more blacks...
Though Tokyo's 600 aging geishas still keep up their traditional routine-the three daily sessions in the public baths, the facial massage with costly nightingale dung, the rubbing of the feet with pumice stone-their number is steadily dwindling. Promising nymphets now prefer to take on more explicit and less demanding jobs as cabaret girls; young men in search of kicks favor the nude shows that flourish all over town. To compete with the cabarets, the geishas have taken up such desperate sidelines as juggling and playing the xylophone-a far cry from the haughty geishas who were...
Like most every corridor we pursue into Genet's devious, intriguing mind, this one brings us up against a solid stone question mark. Every statement, perhaps, that can be made about Deathwatch can be convincingly refuted by following up a different train of hints. But then, J.-P. Sartre calls Genet a black magician, and it is no wonder we are unsure how his spells should be pronounced, or what spirits they are intended to call up. All that is certain is that the spell is most strangely and subtly effective
John XXIII was born in a grey stone farmhouse on a November night in 1881. A couple of hours later, his mother rose from her bed and hurried with her husband and her first son to the little parish church of St. John. The sleepy priest grumbled at the lateness of the hour, but they insisted-"Do you want us to take him all the way home again without baptism?"-and that night Angelo Giuseppe Roncalli became a member of the church he would rule...
...walk down Prospect Street is the pleasantest excursion at Princeton. Down a broad, tree-pillared avenue, with great and handsome residences on either side, substantial edifices of stone and brick and leaded glass--the clubs. You can float down Prospect in a Fitzgeraldian dream, the wealth of accomplished architecture styles deluding you into the past. But up and around the corner, on a busier street, sets a building simple as reality, and as unavoidable as 1959. That is Prospect Club, its name a wistful mark of its exclusion. Prospect has always been the poor club, the wonk co-op club...