Word: waves
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Dates: during 1930-1939
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...announced last week that hereafter drinking in them would be punished, the Philadelphia press blossomed with predictions that the houses would be raided, the bars smashed. Less impulsive, Penn's administration promised no raiding or snooping if bars and bottles were out of sight by spring. For this wave of righteousness most observers credited President Thomas Sovereign Gates's drive for contributions for Penn's 1940 Bicentennial...
...must not, of course, be blind to certain objections. First, swimming is an individual sport, depending not on team play so much as on individual prowess. Secondly, the team at present is riding on the crest of a wave of success, and the trough of the wave must not be forgotten in the exhilaration of the moment. And on the basis of the ranking of swimming in other colleges, reluctance on the part of Harvard to change its status would not be at all unreasonable...
...horrors of a siege now entering its sixth month, the great majority of these Madrid subscribers have continued to pay their telephone bills. When a big shell makes a direct hit against one of the steel girders, the Telefonica quivers, shudders like a liner smacked by a breaking wave, but this week Madrid citizens were still making rushes for shelter into the building whenever a bombardment started. Elasticity has saved it, although shells bursting in a few individual offices have blown furniture to smithereens...
Readers of Evelyn Scott's The Wave (1929) were much impressed, ranked it among the best Civil War novels vet written. Her books since then have been a continuous disappointment. Last week she annoyed, depressed and bored nearly everyone in sight with a 488-page novel "on the artist and the creative problem." Bread and a Sword was Evelyn Scott's third exhaustive mangling of the same unpopular theme; readers cheered her announcement that it was likely to be her last word on the subject...
...would sprint across the floor when he saw his team had the ball and wave his arms wildly and shout, "Here! Here! Throw it here!" Then the ball would be thrown elsewhere, and he would grow! and mutter an "Oh, damn!" Once he captured the ball out of the air and started to dribble madly towards the basket. Suddenly he bethought himself of an unselfish move and pushed the ball into the unsuspecting arms of a teammate. Before the latter had taken two steps, and before he could get ahead of him, he shouted, "Pass it back, pass it back...