Word: swirled
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...train crossed over the Wangaehu Bridge, underpinnings weakened by the surge of water buckled and sagged. Five cars dropped into the river, dragging the engine with them. A sixth teetered drunkenly on the edge of the broken bridge and finally tumbled off. The holiday passengers were plunged into a swirl of water, silt and crazily bounding boulders. One of the carriages went somersaulting for 2½ miles down the swollen river. The dead: 155. Christmas broadcasts throughout New Zealand were canceled to permit reading the lists of those who had been saved...
Nobel Prizewinner Francois Mauriac, author of close to 60 books: "Our policy at present yields only immobility and rottenness. What is there to say of this unending swirl of opinions around the European army, on which, at Bermuda, our allies watched the two French corks dancing? The crimes of personal life can be redeemed and erased, but not those of political life. Because it never stops, because it develops unceasingly in all directions and on all levels, history does not pardon the consequences of a deed once done nor does it pardon our evasions and our refusals...
Last week the President looked remarkably tanned and fit for a man with one foot in the grave, but the whispers continued to swirl around him. At his press conference, a reporter asked him politely how he was feeling and gave Ike the opportunity to stamp out the plague of rumors-at least temporarily. "Well," said the President with a grin, "I will tell you. As you people know ... I have had sort of a sore elbow which has prevented me from getting my exercise to which I am accustomed, which I think I need, and which I love.* Aside...
Whatever it is in a woman that sends poets, artists and commonplace millionaires into a swirl, Misia Sert had. She was a Polish beauty who was born in Russia, chose to live in France, and found the great love of her life with a Spaniard. Then, to make her Spaniard happy, she gave him up to a younger woman. Misia's memoirs are written in low key. sometimes with the flatness of a diary. But despite her flaws as a writer, her story gives a revealing account of life on the borderland of Bohemia in a bygone Europe...
...sings, a pair of willowy girls dance teasingly across the stage, only to be followed by a trio of hillbilly hags who bring the dreamer down to earth. In Gold Rush (from Paint Your Wagon), the girl dancers, cast as lighthearted trollops, swirl happily into a mining town and pair off with the men-only to be left in the lurch when the lode runs out. In Short Lecture and Demonstration on the Evolution...