Word: terrorism
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Dates: during 1920-1929
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...navigate the Yangtze above Hankow, some 300 miles below Wanhsien, on account of the shallow rapids, most famed of which is the so-called "Tiger's Tooth." But Hankow could be used as a base for punitive expeditions, and a glimpse of the Hawkins might strike salutary terror into many a Chinese breast...
...bethink him of showered stars, yet sparks from a Fourth of July pinwheel are quite as effective and wholly permissible. Similarly, the macabre, the delicately gruesome, of which Miss Lowell was so fond, is to be found quite as handily in a neurotic seafarer's terror of growing grass, or in a drawling village dracula, as in the rat-runs of a cathedral's Gothic spire. As always, there are stunning eccentricities. Having used "apotheosis" in one of her lines, Miss Lowell hastened to end the next with "bulldozed...
...better, than Cavalleria, Rusticana. II Piccolo Marat, for instance, which has been given in Rome and Buenos Aires though never in Manhattan, is a far neater piece of construction; four interweaving orchestral tones, built on four connected themes, knit the score to- gether; the scene is Nantes during the Terror, the villain, one Orso, a guillotining cockaded butcher, the heroine is his daughter, the hero, a nobleman so pure that he is called "The Little Marat." What more could one ask? And yet Pietro Mascagni, now walking a ship's deck...
...surprised you didn't make a good mayor! A mayor is up in the air a good deal of the time! Ha ha!" This was a jovial pun, for the Mayor's guest was no other than the Allied ace of aces, destroyer of the Boche terror Herr Wisseman, avenger of famed Ace Guynemer, M. le Capitaine Rene Fonck, late of the French Cigognes ("Storks," crack escadrille). He had called to explain more or less formally that he was about to fly across the Atlantic, starting from Roosevelt Field, L. I. The Man. In uniform, Captain Fonck...
...baleful luminous eyes kindled respect and an instinctive fear. As he rose from his desk, just prior to the signing of the Treaty of Versailles, Premier Clemenceau resembled so vividly a tiger about to spring that many of his associates have since confessed to feeling a twinge of animal terror course down their spines. . . . Now the Tiger has retired, dwells quietly at 8 Rue Franklin, Paris, proclaims to his friends (TIME, April 5) that he treads the brink of the grave. He is 85. But even as he speaks of death, the unquenchable fire darts from his eyes. The grey...