Word: tumult
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Dates: during 1930-1939
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That such a proposal can be considered seriously and without tumult is an impressive indication of the distance we have traveled in the last dozen years. The World War is now definitely something of the past. If as yet we cannot discuss it with complete detachment, we can come quite close to doing so. The bitterness and hatred of those insane days have largely abated Witness Count Von Luckner's reception here in Worcester the other evening, a friendly reception not unmixed with admiration. Ten or eleven years ago we wouldn't give much for the count's chances...
Behind him in the noisome city where his word is law and his wink worth $50.000, a tumult has broken forth and moral prelates and amoral Republicans are piling advice on vice. The Tammany Tiger is trying to purr like a pussy cat but it seems to have an impolitic foog in its throat which gives it the sound of an angry beast caught at another's carrion. And from what one hears the stench will last long after the scandalous corpse has been cleared from the city streets...
Undoubtedly the "hit-and-run" accusation was a blunder and has been officially acknowledged as such by the United States. The apology has in addition been accepted by Benito Mussolini and apparently the tumult aroused by the affair has died down in Italian circles. It would therefore seem that a prolongation of the incident would not only be an unnecessary expenditure of effort, but also contribute nothing to the improvement of international relations. Furthermore, the mud-slinging and fireworks usually attending American trials might serve to make the Butler statement even more aggravating abroad. Already Senator Heflin has shouted...
...there anybody older than I in this house?" suddenly shrilled 82-year-old Deputy Karl Herold above the tumult, "I was born in 1848! Anybody older than I? Anybody?" "Nein!" rumbled the Reichstag with one mighty voice, and, as custom decrees, the oldest Deputy took the chair prior to election of a regular President, began quaveringly to call the roll...
This is the story, bounded by the four walls of the whistlers' room and the miniature cosmos of the hospital. The echoes of the war sound even there, but only faintly; this is a reflection of the tumult of the front, a single instrument against a symphony. Nothing vast, grandiose in the physical sense, enters the work. It is written with a fine, precise hand that understands how to use the individual as effectively as other writers on the war use the mass. Thoroughly unpretentious, still the book expresses its great thesis of friendship effectively, and in small compass...