Word: tilling
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...idea I have followed all my life-to be practical, not idealistic. My critics always want the ideal. If everything comes as you like it, what's the use of ability? This is my doctrine: never be an idealist, use what's available, don't wait till everything is perfect and miss your chance...
...Jafar al-Askari, a husky, bull-necked Arab a few years his senior. The two became fast friends, and in 1910, as one member of the family puts it, "they gave each other their sisters." Though in accordance with Arab custom Nuri was not introduced to his bride Naima till the wedding day, Jafar arranged for her to catch a glimpse of Nuri from a window a few weeks beforehand. "He was handsome -just as he is today," says Naima, who has borne him two sons (one of them, an R.A.F.-trained pilot, is chief of Iraq's rail...
...attempts at the "big spin in the brick-yard," Sam had planned to steal some time by making only two pit stops in his light, low-slung Belond Exhaust Special. He had already made them, and he could not be sure whether his latest set of tires would last till the finish. He was less than a lap ahead of the second racer. Should he crowd his luck, or bet on the speed and skill of his pit crew...
Rodzinski has conducted Tristan more than 40 times, spent weeks before the Florence rehearsals restudying the score. He drilled his temperamental Italian orchestra mercilessly, rehearsed his cast, chorus and orchestra from 9 a.m. till midnight. Ruthlessly he excised musical sentimentalities, toned down the deathbed exuberance of handsome Tenor Windgassen ("You're practically dead. You can hardly talk, let alone sing"). On opening night last week, a big share of the applause went to Soprano Nilsson, who was compared to the great Kirsten Flagstad. But the star of the occasion was Rodzinski himself. Perched on a high stool...
...time Piatigorsky was a homeless young refugee in Berlin and often had to sleep on park benches; once, seeking dry shelter for the night, he slipped into an empty concert hall and out of his rain-drenched clothes, but found himself unable to sleep and spent the time till morning playing his cello nude on the stage. He has also written a novel that sounds farcical echoes of Kafka. The manuscript, which Piatigorsky used to carry about with him in his cello case wherever he went, concerns one Dr. Blok, a painter who represents the eternal outcast and misfit. Blok...