Word: volcanoed
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Dates: during 1940-1949
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...white, one lavender, peeped from the lapel of his flowing black coat. His broad jowls were momentarily at rest, his eyebrows arched like innocent cupid's bows. Under subpoena by the Truman Committee, John Lewis had appeared gladly. There he sat, as guileless and patient as a volcano. He was ready to explain his threat of a coal strike...
...volcano erupted. John Lewis roared: "When you call me a demagogue before I can reply I hurl it back in your face, sir. When you ask me are the coal miners hungry I say yes, and when you call me a demagogue I say you are less than a proper representative of the com mon people of this country. . . ." Snapped Chairman Truman: "We don't stand for any sassy remarks. I don't like that remark to a member of this com mittee...
Since January 1942 the Japanese had held Rabaul on Blanche Bay, the flooded crater of an extinct volcano which gives deep water almost to the shore. In peacetime Rabaul's tiny wharf was used chiefly by island trading ships of two companies, W. R. Carpenter & Co. and Burns Philp & Co. Now the harbor is a great Japanese naval and troop-transport center. From it, short and efficient supply lines radiate to forward bases above both shoulders of Australia-a score of spots such as Kupang on Timor and Gizo in the Solomons. From those forward bases, which like Rabaul...
...last twenty or so years, predicting the future importance of bombing and the black-hearted intentions of Hitler's gang, but limited, unfortunately, by the whims of editors to writing minor fiction and articles on fishing. This book represents, then, the eruption of a long repressed critical volcano in which every sacred American institution from Mom down to bingo comes in for a baptism of fire. What distinguishes it from the run-of-the-mill Menckenisms and Peglerisms is a set of sound philosophical premises. The style is pungent and rings all the possible changes on the modern journalistic vocabulary...
...conducts herself with the seductive reserve of a Hildegarde (TIME, March 13, 1939). But when Lena sings at dinner and supper, forks are halted in midcareer. Flashing one of the most magnificent sets of teeth visible outside a store, she seethes her songs with the air of a bashful volcano. As she reaches the end of Honeysuckle Rose ("When I'm takin' sips from your tasty lips, seems the honey fairly drips")* her audience is gasping...