Word: swirling
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Dates: during 1950-1959
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Happy Hospitality. But the delegation, in the happy swirl of rice wine, tinkling gongs, friendly smiles and endless toasts, seemed not to notice. Premier Chou En-lai himself welcomed them at the Peking Pavilion of Purple Light, launching a round of banqueting, toast-drinking and speechmaking that lasted for 19 days. In Peking's sweltering heat, the Laborites downed innumerable toasts, consumed huge quantities of shark fins, lotus root and roasted duck skin, amid a continuous flutter of fans. At banquets, Chou linked arms with
Forceful, independent K. C. Wu, once famed as the dynamic mayor of Shanghai, resigned as governor of Formosa last April and left for the U.S. for his health (asthma). After he left, his enemies in Formosa kicked up a swirl of charges that he had absconded with millions and was living in a $189-a-day hotel suite in New York. K. C. Wu kept silent, set up housekeeping in Evanston, Ill., and began lecturing to make his living. His wife did the cooking and he did the dishes. From time to time, he wrote Chiang, refuting the charges...
...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...
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...