Word: tells
(lookup in dictionary)
(lookup stats)
Dates: during 1920-1929
Sort By: most recent first
(reverse)
Next day, the convention opened. Mr. Lewis flayed the radicals. Casting an eye at Mr. Brophy, whom he had easily defeated for President, he said: "I could tell of slimy things." Radicals cowered. They continued to cower until, two days later, Radical Hapgood rose to criticize. Mr. Lewis pounded the desk, eyes flashing. He smelled a fight. "If you say another word," said he, "you'll have to be ejected" (on the grounds that he was not entitled to a seat). The young man hit a sergeant-at-arms on the left shoulder, but no one came to his rescue...
...There is many a story which people like to tell to show that I am a harum-scarum princess. Here are some of them. Long before such things were socially approved, I stepped out into the middle of a ballroom, danced a solo turkey trot, smoked a cigaret. Ladies gasped; I had fun. One afternoon a woman was telling several of us about the miserable condition of her health. Suddenly I asked her: 'Have you ever tried standing on your head? ... It acts like a charm.' I borrowed a safety pin, fastened the hem of my skirt between...
...business. The primary interest of the coach is his reputation. The alumni are bent on advertising their college. As a result the athlete is in an atmosphere of work working to make the team and then to beat a rival team. That coach is a rare Avis who tells his candidates first of the fun and relaxation of what they naively call "games". Rather he talks first of What the team did or did not do to St. Timothy's last year and how he is sure the boys will duplicate or reverse last years splendid or regrettable performance...
...itself because the lead is not characteristic, and the rhyme scheme, borrowed from the "Night Before Christmas" (we suppose with apologies to Santa Claus) lacks ingenuity. This is the first vision in Lampy's nightmare. We turn the page and the inconsistency staggers us. Herman's wife, William Tell, Cyrano de Bergerac and something indelicate about women undressing in newspaper headlines, poke the spectator feebly in the ribs but no responsive laugh comes forth, because there is no sense of reality...
...would go on to Part 2, question 7, on nineteenth century English authors and tell why Silas Marner never went to sea, and why his daughter Eppie really was not the salt of the earth, but I don't consider it worth while. I should also like to make a few remarks on Hardy's "Far from the Madding Crowd," but I might be tempted to make a pun. Meanwhile the dumb-looking youth next to me will be calling for his fifth blue book so that he can tell all of Gore Hall at dinner this noon how much...