Word: tumults
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...Doctor Gallup's enumerators reach Cambridge we shall have to remain unhappily ignorant of the relative strength at Harvard of the "tender-minded" and the "tough minded." But this we do know now: however receptive the class of '39 may be to President Conant's Baccalaureate advice "Neglect the tumult of the moment," however complacent they may become in the face of wars and panics and clashing ideologies, there is still enough energy left in them for just a little tumult. Harvard's seniors are still interested in Harvard, and they are willing to disturb the mellow mood of returning...
...concluded the sermon with the following exhortation: "Neglect the tumult of the moment; do not be afraid to be yourself. Choose a field of effort where you may develop your talents to the utmost, Labor honestly and selflessly in your chosen calling. Then in spite of the warfare of ideologies and the outcome of current struggles if your hopes be realized, at some later day it may be written of you, 'He also lived to build a finer civilization.' In the multiplication of such epitaphs the greatness of a nation may truly be read...
...knowing how he stood there but suddenly he was aroused from his hypnosis by a clangorous blast of shrill, female voices. He glanced in the direction of the tumult and instinctively braced himself at what he saw. There, headed by a stern, prim, capable-looking teacher (she couldn't have been anything else but a teacher), was a horde of adolescent females sweeping down...
...Rivera's esteem for her house guest, Exile Leon Trotsky, antedates but probably does not surpass André Breton's. From Mexico last summer Poet Breton and Painter Diego Rivera issued a furious manifesto, calling on all independent revolutionary intellectuals, "whose voice is drowned by the odious tumult of the regimented falsifiers," to form a world-wide union against the oppression of art by any political regime, especially the Stalinist...
They held the Colón Hotel. Two field guns protected it, and before the guns were soldiers with machine guns and rifles, sweeping the wide avenue from end to end. As the tumult of the whistles died away, two Cadillacs driven by anarchists zigzagged madly up the street toward the guns, making 70 m.p.h., their horns screaming. Like monstrous torpedoes they plowed through the line of soldiers, charged the gun crews, piled into a wall beside them in black, blood-spattered heaps of wreckage. Their drivers were dead. But the guns were silenced...