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Word: tattoo (lookup in dictionary) (lookup stats)
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Usage:

...face. The fringes of the crowd melted away. Indians in full war paint (friends and race relatives of the Vice President) retreated to shelter under the Capitol's main portico. The President began to hurry his words, faster, louder, doggedly, as the tattoo of water from above grew louder and louder. It was, Boris must have thought, dismal weather...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: THE PRESIDENCY: The Chief | 3/11/1929 | See Source »

When Louisine Waldron Elder was a young girl, she liked pictures. Particularly did she like pictures by Edgar Degas of be draggled and rhythmic danseuses stretching their weary tendons upon the ballet rack, pirouetting with a one, two, three and a pas-de-bas to the tattoo of the master's baton. Louisine saved her pin money, watched it swell to $100, took her hoard to a friend, Mary Cassatt. Mary Cassatt took it to Degas, bought a pic ture, the first to enter an American collection. "I sadly needed that money," said Degas...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: Art: Havemeyer Collection | 2/4/1929 | See Source »

Staccato footfalls beat a brisk tattoo through the city room of the New York World, down the long rows of worn old desks. A big, vociferous typhoon with red hair, blue shirt, trim tailored suit, swept with a round-the-world stride through the office, greeted a dozen reporters by their first names and vanished through a far door, leaving a strange quiet 'behind him. Herbert Bayard Swope, Executive Editor of the World and genius of its flying columns for eight years, was leaving...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: The Press: Renaud's World | 1/7/1929 | See Source »

Over the week-end and into the dawn of Election Day, the pulse of the nation quickened until it sounded like a machine-gun tattoo or a concentrated yip, yip, hooray...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: National Affairs: Sidewalks of Chicago | 11/12/1928 | See Source »

...worked for the glory of the team, and he has worked as long as the hero. For hours, beneath the direct rays of a beating sun, and when the rains of November were thrumming a monotonous tattoo on the roof of the baseball cage, he has practised for but one thing: that the Varsity might be great. In return he asks nothing; though, when honor's at the stake, like the heroine of almost any novel, he has been ready always to "go the whole...

Author: NO WRITER ATTRIBUTED | Title: LEST WE FORGET | 5/12/1928 | See Source »

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