Word: underfoot
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...Away, slight men. . . . It is not safe to stand obstructing the front of this great army. You might be trampled underfoot . . . because of your small stature and the uplifted eyes of a people whose 'eyes have seen the glory' and whose purpose is intent on the inspired leadership of your neighbor and my friend Franklin Roosevelt...
...named The Divine Wind. Its pilot, a 24-year-old wizard of endurance named Masaaki Iinuma, had just flown all the way from Tokyo (via Formosa, Indo-China, India, Iraq, Greece, Italy, France) in four days. Aeroplane, remarking that the crowd of greeters at the field nearly trampled underfoot half a dozen very small Japanese girls and their bouquets, paid tribute to Pilot Iinuma for being "thoroughly fit physically for a job of this kind...
...These poor but happy friends are the best thing in the picture, and it is they who save it from being slow and second-rate. Akim Tamiroff is a Russian waiting for his citizenship papers, and Lee Tracy is a legless beggar who seems to enjoy pushing himself around underfoot on a little roller-skate wagon. Mary Martin and Fred MacMurray are perfectly adequate in their roles, which demand neither a minimum nor a maximum of acting ability...
...never wrote a "masterpiece"-"the sentence was his unit"-but his theory of expression "was that on which Thoreau built, to which Whitman gave extension, and to which Hawthorne and Melville were indebted by being forced to react against its philosophical assumptions." Thoreau had Emerson's Nature solid underfoot to start his life on. In an analysis of Walden's quietly magnificent form, Teacher Matthiessen passes Thoreau on Coleridge's test of "the organic principle" -that form must arise out of the properties of the material-and names him one of the ancestors of modern functionalism...
Host and demonstrator at the Aberdeen (Md.) Proving Ground was hard, white-haired, tank-wise Colonel John K. Christmas.* The day was cold and raw; the red Maryland clay was muddy underfoot. Colonel Christmas said that he would let the model speak for itself. Then he turned toward the tank, sulking 400 yards away on a slight rise, and waved his right arm. There was dead quiet for perhaps ten seconds. Then M3 turned loose a horizontal stream of red death, directed towards a silhouette target 900 yards away. From the muzzles of four .30-caliber machine guns spurted bright...