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Word: stouts (lookup in dictionary) (lookup stats)
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...sAiled the stout ship nansy hans...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: Sounds of Silence | 11/1/1993 | See Source »

...sampled in the galleries outside the palace that are always open to the public and have no queues. Buckingham Palace does contain some great pictures though. Most are from the Netherlands: Rembrandt's ship $ builder, with his sketches of hull sections before him, being handed a note by his stout wife; top-flight Rubenses; and Van Dyck's two portraits of Charles I, especially the "greate peece," which depicts him with his consort and children -- the mobile thin face, shadowed with melancholy, amid the grand, vaporous profusion of light on silk and marble. No later court painter -- at least...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: Buckingham Palace: 18 Rms, No Royal Vu | 8/30/1993 | See Source »

...told the passengers in as lighthearted a way as possible that they were going to have to find their own way from this point on, looked for friendly trees to hit, turned off the ignition and tried to come in level. Unfortunately, I could not see one stout old mango tree." Leakey suffered worse injuries than any of his passengers: shattered bones in both legs and ankles...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: Richard The Lionhearted | 7/19/1993 | See Source »

Keno learned all about the system by hanging out in the subway dispatcher's office in Brooklyn, where he picked up the transit jargon and befriended motormen. Keno, stocky and stout, convinced one of them, Regoberto Sabio, that he was a 25-year-old motorman, and would ride Sabio's route with him. "He didn't show me an ID card or anything like that," Sabio later told a reporter, "but there was nothing in his mannerisms that made me think he was anything but another motorman." By riding with Sabio, Keno learned firsthand how to drive the trains, what...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: The Great A Train Robbery | 5/24/1993 | See Source »

...Boulevard Ring road on a mild, hazy winter's afternoon. The windows are coated with a viscous film of mud and grit, residue of city snow turned to slush. Wipers, old and misshapen, scrape slowly across the windshield, clearing just enough space for the driver to spot a stout old man waving his hand from the curb. He pulls over. A few words are spoken, an agreement reached. The man and his wife, both wearing dingy overcoats, fur hats and rubber boots, clamber...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: View From a Cab | 2/15/1993 | See Source »

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