Word: sweated
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...steel shell of the vault was now so hot from the fires raging below that the tiles laid over it were beginning to crack and buckle. We were all drenched in sweat. We were breathing through wet paper towels, very slowly and shallowly, trying to save oxygen...
...Heart," "Me and Bobby McGee." Instead, Midler performs a number of rock and blues standbys. She is not an outstanding blues singer; any comparison with such greats as Aretha Franklin, Bessie Smith or Billie Holiday would be absurd. But Midler holds her own musically and captures, through sweat and emotion, the charisma of a star...
...forehead glistening with beads of sweat, John R. Silber is hotly defending his record as president of Boston University [B.U.] before a crowded press conference. His face is ashen and his teeth are gritted, but his voice never breaks as he makes point after point in firm, measured tones. As he pauses for emphasis, a student heckler interrupts to ask a pointed question. Silber whips his head around and shuts the student up with an ice-cold stare and a reminder that it is he, Silber, who is holding the press conference. Then, without losing pace, Silber plunges back into...
...they're dying to risk it. But they slowly roll out of their cars, struggle to stand erect and stretch and scratch their heads, stomachs or buttocks. They yawn and speak of last night, of all that beer. A paunchy man, dressed in blue jeans and a dirty white sweat shirt ambles towards us. "You here to jump?" A moment of silence. "Well my, my name is Pete, I'm your rigger," he says. "That means I pack your chutes." Still silence. "Hey, don't look so worried, I didn't drink too much last night," he roars, hoisting himself...
When she finally said, "way 'nough!" I collapsed in my seat, hands blistered and shriveled, and soaked with a combination of river water and sweat. Almost immediately we broke out the booze and paddled back to Weld--oar in one hand, beer in the other--to cheers from the crowd that remained. Only now did I notice that the 1979 Head had been the last race for my sliding seat, which cracked and lost a bolt at the finish line. Somebody was on our side. In fact, we had finished in 19'33", not particularly good for the Championship Eights...