Word: strode
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...University of Illinois last week, a big man in a rumpled brown suit strode up to a blackboard and wrote: ' times zero equals zero." Then he asked ten junior-high-school students to make the sentence "true" by filling in the blank. As 40 schoolteachers from as far away as Florida and Alaska looked on, the students excitedly gave Mathematician Max Beber-man their answer: the sentence is already true because anything times zero equals zero. What the teachers saw were ninth-graders discovering a math principle entirely by themselves. This approach is so important to Beberman that...
...Senator John F. Kennedy, who had slipped away from his seaside vacation retreat at Hyannisport, Mass, to do some New York politicking himself. Just as Kennedy headed into Manhattan's Waldorf-Astoria, by long-shot coincidence the car bringing Johnson from the airport pulled up at the entrance. Johnson strode indoors so fast that he did not even see Kennedy, but Kennedy saw Johnson, and let out a startled semi-shout: "What's that guy doing here...
Moments later, Pajetta strode into the Chamber of Deputies dramatically waving the blood-smeared shirt of Socialist Deputy Gianguido Borghese, who had been hurt in the cavalry charge. "Assassins!" shouted the Communists, and the chamber quickly became a free-for-all. Communists and Christian Democrats knocked aside ushers, grappled along the chamber's steep aisles. Only after hours of battling was order restored...
...strode along in his size 13 shoes, embarrassed by his 6-ft. 6-in., 240-lb. frame, carrying his eccentricities with him until fame had transformed them into legend. He seldom washed, changed his shirt or had a haircut; he could live for hours, even days, on cigarettes and coal black coffee, then eat twelve eggs, two quarts of milk and an entire loaf of bread in one breakfast. Wild-eyed and forever talking with all the intensity of his written prose, he sprayed everyone in range with reservoirs of spittle from the corners of his mouth. Some thought...
...residence. Now it was the debating hall of the Congo's first Parliament. A grey wastebasket was pressed into service as the voting urn. Amid the happy hubbub, a black soldier loped down the aisle, crying, "Mr. President of the Provisional Assembly, he has arrived!" As the President strode briskly to his seat, his Belgian adviser whispered, "Have you got your hammer...