Word: wrung
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Dates: during 1980-1989
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...achieve the proper level of dynamic blandness. And since media consultants tend to recycle endlessly any technique that works, it is easy to envision future political spots that begin, "It's morning again in Poland." But equally disturbing is the way that during the 1980s, the political handlers have wrung the last droplets of spontaneity out of U.S. politics, as passion and ideology have become increasingly suspect. Perhaps the U.S. can survive irrelevant politics and low-turnout elections. But fledgling democracies cannot afford such decadent luxuries...
...certainly seems that way. The ferocious shelling gave way only for lulls to permit both sides to reload. Calls for a cease-fire were drowned out by the volcanic bombardments. Western officials wrung their hands and made vain appeals to reason. But the sky continued to rain fire and death on the city in a prolonged paroxysm of violence...
...finger," so to speak. For awhile, I adopted the strangest manner of dress, suitable for gypsy costumes in a late 1930s musical. I despised things Dallas or Southern, and I rejected bar-b-qued chicken, okra and squash souffle. My parents, I think, believed I was mad, and they wrung their hands in despair...
...repeated, whether the reporting is from China or the Soviet Union or Lithuania, is that once the genie of freedom is out of the bottle it can never be put back in. This is rank sentimentalism. The idea that somehow, if people ) have tasted freedom, the taste cannot be wrung out of them is a fallacy so large it is embarrassing just to hear it. Think only of this century. Russia tasted freedom in February 1917 and by October had lost it for 70 years. Weimar Germany tasted democracy for 14 years; it took Hitler and his storm troopers...
...when John Ruskin lets fly in Modern Painters: "A taint and stain, and jarring discord . . . marked sensuality and impurity." In 1895 Romain Rolland downed him: "He was able to deceive two entire centuries . . . Guido's laborious conscientiousness is void of thought and true feeling." Two years later, Bernard Berenson wrung his neck: "We turn away from Guido Reni with disgust unspeakable." And it was downhill from there; in 1910 one of his versions of Bacchus and Ariadne sold at Christie's for just under (pounds)10, a fraction of its auction price 60 years before. The nadir...