Word: wente
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Dates: during 1960-1969
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...second automobile that Kennedy and his two friends had taken to return to the scene in their attempt to rescue Mary Jo. Edgartown police believe that there were only two cars available to the Kennedy party: a white Valiant and a larger black car. If Kennedy's car went over the bridge when he said that it did, then the white Valiant would have been the only car that the men could have used. Look maintains that it was not by any means the Valiant he saw at 12:40. "I know black from white," he said indignantly...
...supposed to search out the gases and vapors in the Martian atmosphere. JPL technicians explained that the spectrometer, which should be cooled to below - 400° F. to operate efficiently, refused to chill at all. Mariner 7 caused even greater concern at Mission Control when it went off the air entirely for seven hours. Apparently struck by a tiny meteoroid, the spacecraft lost its fix on the star Canopus and its directional antenna spun away from earth. A new roll-and-search command went up from Pasadena. Mariner 7 obeyed, and though performing at less than capacity, its radio functioned...
...Soviet Union as I wrote it. For political reasons, the Soviet censorship and the editors shorten, distort and violate my works to the point of making them completely unrecognizable. Or they do not permit them to be published at all. So long as I was young, I went on hoping for something. But the appearance of each new work of mine was not a cause for rejoicing but for sorrow. Because my writing appears in such an ugly, false and misshapen form, and I am ashamed to look people in the face. To write a good book in the Soviet...
...mama: So for a quarter of a century I went on dreaming about a happy state of affairs, which is unthinkable for a Soviet writer-to be able to write and publish his writings without restriction and without fear. Not to choke off his own song. To have no thought for party instructions, government-appointed editors and political censors. Not to start trembling at every knock on the door. Not to be hiding his manuscripts away in a hole in the ground almost before the ink on them...
What do I hope for? In recent years I have, from time to time, locked securely in my room, permitted myself a treat: I wrote as I pleased. It was a painful and unusual experience. It was as if, in a world where everybody went on all fours, somebody, shut in a cellar, had stood up and walked upright...