Word: whining
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Dates: during 1940-1949
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Wenches with warts want Willkie. Wampum wardens won't wager Willkie will win. Wealthy werewolves whine, wheedle whimsical, wily words. Winsome Willkie's worried wretches watch wonderingly while Wendell's wide wagon wabbles, wavers, wriggles weakly, weirdly wrecks. Willkie's wailing, wild words won't worry worthy workers, wives, widows, workless. Whooping windbag, Willkie wallops will-o'-wisps. Workingmen want work. Wayfarers, watchmen: warn wireless "Willkie...
Suppose you got on the Mass. Avenue bus instead of going to Brattle Hall. You couldn't miss the Tech Roller Rink; the air is crowded with laughter, and the whine of skate wheels on wooden floor. At first your skates don't seem to go in the right direction; you stumble. Your hand reaches out to steady yourself, and finds another hand in it. Funny, you never think to ask Why. She is there, and that's all, skating with you. She has brown hair tied back with a ribbon and a trim green dress. You are both talking...
Superman comes on the air with a shrill, shrieking sound effect (combination of a high wind and a bomb whine, recorded in the Spanish war). Voices hail him with: "Up in the sky-look! It's a bird. . . . It's a plane. . . . It's SUPERMAN!" Superman or no superman, he has to watch his step on the radio. Mothers' clubs have their eyes on him, the Child Study Association of America feels that his occasional rocket & space ship jaunts are a bit too improbable. By radio's own war rules, he must remain neutral...
Richard Llewellyn is one more of those writers who love their common native speech and who use it with a sensuous efficiency which, in its verbal splendor, its folksy lilt and whine, approaches literary affectation. Yet in this, his first published novel (he has destroyed five), he has developed a hypnotic ability to do precisely what he pleases. His Morgans, those they live among, the country they inhabit, every incident, every reflection Huw Morgan ventures on the whole matter, have an even radiance and euphony plus a rock-bottom tangibility. If it be only would-be great How Green...
...high mountain whine Billy Hull screamed, "God dang you, don't you speak to me!" He pulled a pistol from his left armpit. Stepp turned to run. Hull shot him "right atween the galluses." On the ground he had the prudence to shoot Stepp again. Then Billy Hull crossed the river, and back in Tennessee no one ever said another word to him about...