Word: things
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Dates: during 1920-1929
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...that never, not once, has the Lampoon's worst been one half as bad as the very best of most other college comic. Their jejune obscenities can be studied, by any sociologist who will take the trouble to collect an armful of them; and this will be an excellent thing for anyone who has lifted a supercilious eyelid at the peccadilloes of the Lampoon. The nastiness of little boys telling dirty stories in the alley behind the livery stable finds beautiful literary and artistic expression in the humorous papers which most American colleges put out at this time...
Sirs: Concerning the letter of Mr. Newell W. Banks (TIME, April 25) wherein Mr. Banks offers his services in conducting a checker column, let me say that I believe it would be a very fine thing for your readers-a far better thing for them than most of them realize. Several years ago Mr. Banks played against Robert Stewart (in Scotland) for the championship of the world: Mr. Stewart won by two wins to one-with 47 drawn games. . . . I realize . . . that your mail will not be likely to bring you a very favorable reaction to the proposition. The ability...
...thing I cannot understand. How can you always be here, not only on time but some-times several hours ahead, while you?" and he glared at the expensive parquet and balcony? "with automobiles and every convenience in the world, are utterly unable to do the same thing...
...author and her heroine, between whom it is hard to distinguish, have one rare thing in abundance. They have race. They react sharply and lastingly to experiences like Sara Spain's (the heroine's) rescue from the surf by Siercy Hodd, her sweetheart and lover in lazy, lovely Georgia. They abominate the starched prosiness of the northern Haskell clan into which Sara marries, but they are game. After screaming, "Hop-toads!" at elder Haskells, they apologize...
...weeks he has often urged others to attend, and wished that he might go himself. Be that as it may, as he sat at one of the tables with an accomplice in crime sipping near dear out of glass lily-sups, and munching pretzela to the tune of one thing or another, he could not help letting his imagination transport him some 3000 miles in space and some nine months back in time. For a few moments Symphony Hall was transformed. Instead of the galleries and plaster statues, a canepy of foliage rustled in the breeze over the heads...