Word: unless
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...story really belongs to Tranio (Joseph L. DiMento ’05), a slave who has more than a reprimand to worry about if caught. Unless he can fool Theopropides into believing that the money has vanished for perfectly valid reasons, he can look forward to a crucifixion in his near future. The bulk of the play consists of his various attempts to fool Theopropides, who makes a wonderfully gullible victim until he is forced to face the truth...
...focus away from the excessive emissions in the industrialized world and towards the marginal emissions of those in the developing countries. No amount of action by the Chinas, Indias, and all the developing countries put together can even begin to make a serious dent in global carbon concentrations unless meaningful action is first taken to curb the excessive emissions of those of us living in the industrialized world...
...suppose that unless these high-schoolers are wearing 100 percent cotton anti-gay t-shirts with their uncut locks and beards flowing behind them—from the literalist perspective—they might consider being more tolerant. I suppose, too, that I’m tired of radical fundamentalist Christians believing they have a monopoly on what’s Christian in the same way that the kid in section who never shuts up seems to think he has a monopoly on every topic, if only because he’s the only one talking…so loudly...
...those are just the obvious ones. Unless diehard classical fans are simply less likely to use thefacebook.com or publicly announce their interest, they appear to make up less than about 5 percent of the Harvard population. No matter how many posters they put up, HRO members know, chances are that the unconverted won’t be attending unless they’re there to support their friends or hear a piece they learned about in a Core class...
...been there” chuckles, particularly when Krinsky gives us students slipping in the mud at the Harvard-Yale tailgate, the hopeless tangle of crushes that enmesh a group of friends, or the occasional high intellectual in-joke: “Les autres, are, after all, hell—unless they are fucking you on your desk,” she says, describing the relationship between a philosophy major undergrad and her Sartre-loving TA. These are moments of sharp observation, even wit. But on the whole the book ends up being as flavorless as the vodka-and-soda Chloe...