Word: swellingly
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...continuous inspiration, a font of comfort and reassurance to all about him, as he occupied the exposed position at the very bottom of his class. Everyone enjoyed him. One of his roommates remembers that "Courtney slept most of the time, except when he played cards. He was swell. His mother sent him brownies." Another recalls, "He seldom gave anyone trouble. You see, he talked only on infrequent occasions, and then not very well...
...annex will be a "coordinate" branch of Kent, will have its own faculty (half women), and will slowly swell to a full four forms by adding one new class each year. For two years there will be no mixed classes, and after that only in some honors courses. And there will be few if any finishing-school touches. Kent's famed "selfhelp" system-which allows the school to save $100,000 a year on maintenance and scale tuition to a boy's means-will apply to the girls too. They will rise at 6:05, make their beds...
Pretty Political? After a general gasp came a lively babble. Said Commerce Secretary Sinclair Weeks: "Swell idea. It's a knockout." Chimed Agriculture's Ezra Taft Benson: "I'm no politician. But I think it's a great idea." Finally the President got a word in. "By golly, I like that idea. But it's pretty political, isn't it, Meade?" Replied Alcorn: "And how! Mr. President. But it's good politics, and will be good for the country...
...towels (which Crabbe hawks after dark on the streets), reciting Euripides and telling his benefactor, "Oh you're inimitable." The affair does not last. Kemp recovers his sight and encounters an old friend, an officer in the Horse Guards named Theophanes Clayfoot. In high Victorian style, this "howling swell" sweeps Kemp off to his manor, and Crabbe is left faint with starvation, beset by creditors, an outcast. "Festering in his shell," he is "alone and naked -all alone with The Alone...
When Poe left the house of "Old Swell-Foot" Allan, poems were literally a penny each.*His death-haunted spirit could not long function in the field of pure poetry, but Poe carried heavy weapons in journalism, which, to him, was a corpse-littered no man's land between art and business. By peddling and shamelessly pushing his articles and stories, by the needlework of his aunt and his grandmother's minuscule pension ($240 a year derived from Grandfather Poe's services during the Revolution), Edgar kept alive in the "literary snake pit" of 19th century...