Word: vitriol
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Dates: during 1940-1949
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...they read the Süddeutsche Zeitung one morning last week, Munich's 3,400 Jews felt fresh vitriol in their old wounds. A letter to the editor, signed with the pseudonym "Adolf Bleibtreu" (Stay True to Adolf), screamed at the Jews: "Go ahead and go to America, even though the people there have no use for you either. They have had enough of you bloodsuckers. Several of the Amis [slang for Americans] have already told me they forgive us for everything except one thing: that we did not gas all the Jews, for many are now enjoying life...
Robert Houghwout Jackson, onetime Attorney General, collector of McGuffey's Readers, ardent horseman, an eloquent, incisive writer who, when he dissents, dissents in vitriol; considered by corporation lawyers to be the most consistent of the justices...
...puffing a big cigar after many toasts, he let them in on his plans. He would continue to record, for the "benighted and tone-starved multitudes of the New World who lack the advantages of English musical culture." More important, he let them in on the anatomy of his vitriol: "There is something about a large gathering that brings out my basest instincts. Before a crowd of 1,000, I am malicious. Before 5,000, I am positively evil, and, facing a crowd of 10,000, I am compelled to say the most abominable things...
...jabberwock he is hunting, a college fraternity, last seen some years ago at Williams College, left a stain upon this editor's blotter which must be purged by vitriol . . . Hurling three columns of ketchup at the group which inferiorated him . . he retires from the field, having given space long filled by eminent philosophers and editors to a personal and trivial hurling of tomatoes in the essence...
...years his crosshatched, mild-&-mellow drawings, fussy and cluttered-up by modern standards, have all but vanished from Colonel Robert R. McCormick's isolationist, Anglophobic pages. McCutcheon's pen scratched its best when dipped in the milk of human kindness, and one-eyed Carey Orr's vitriol is more to the Colonel's taste. McCutcheon, in failing health, did not mind the eclipse; his kind of cartooning had brought him fun and fame, a Pulitzer Prize (1931) and a good living (around $50,000 a year...