Word: vulgarizations
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...small, yet glorious fragments of an ancient heritage, that the only atmosphere in which Truth can flourish is that of freedom. Hence there is no undistinguished background to this benefice, received as their trust by the Class of 1930. Not the futile liberty of frenzied, nor the license of vulgar minds, but the freedom essential to the growth of decent, vital, creative minds--that is the gift with which Harvard University endows its students...
...years man would be born from an egg, a postadolescent, with a mind capable of reaching the modern mind's highest development in four years, after which he would graduate into being an "Ancient," a Yogi-like creature with no low passions or appetites, not even the vulgar craving for sleep. To Irénée du Pont, vice chairman of the E. I. du Pont de Nemours & Co., 30,000 years seems a long time to wait for creative evolution to reach this point, and in the course of his remarks on the dyestuff industry he strayed...
...happens that Mr. Wells will be 60 next Tuesday. It happens that his character, William Clissold, enunciates a prodigious amount of Wellsian philosophy. But the "vulgar" reader and reviewer are asked to understand that the book is not Mr. Wells' autobiography, but William Clissold's. The latter is merely a "relative" of Mr. Wells, a mineralogist whose promoter-father committed suicide on the way to prison, leaving the mother free to remarry and the boys, William and Dickon Clissold, to make their own lives...
...current beauty contest at Atlantic City, where pursy bankers, showmen, hotel loungers and politicians sat in judgment upon the curves and proportions of "Miss Texas," "Miss Georgia," "Miss Idaho," etc., etc.? Beryl Mills did not like to disappoint her interviewers. And she thinks "all this talk about how vulgar you Americans are," is "silly." She thinks Americans are "perfectly adorable," especially U.S. college girls, even if they do smoke more than Australians and use "ever so much more" makeup. Nevertheless, she was obliged to say no, certainly not; she had not the faintest idea of entering the Atlantic City "struggle...
...Vulgar rhymes of this sort have long cast a quite unmerited mal-odeur upon the sausage business, and perhaps no man was more sensitive to the unfortunate effect of balladry than the late Adolf Gobel, sausage manufacturer. While recognizing, of course, that the Dunderbeck of the song was an entirely legendary figure, he could not do other than deplore the attitude of people who actually believed that when they ate liverwurst, bologna, or a bit of scampf, they were partaking of pulverized canine cadavers. Some thirty years ago this Adolf Gobel, who has done more, perhaps, for the sausage business...