Word: leanings
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Dates: during 1930-1939
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...Take you me for a sponge, my lord?" and "O, come away! My soul is full of discord and dismay." All during the lecture he nodded and frowned and bowed and articulated to himself. When the instructor read a particularly stirring passage, the little man would shut his book, lean back in his chair, and with eyes closed, would sway from side to side like a cobra, hypnotized by the music of the verse...
Yeshua as seen by the Roman: "His body was lean and hungry-looking . . .strange pallor. . . . A young black beard, which mingled with the ritualistic ear-locks hanging down at either side." Less than two years later, when Yeshua stands before the Roman's superior, Pilate, the soldier notes: "On his graying-hair lay a wreath woven of thorns. . . . Little trickles of blood clotted the hair of his ear-locks, ran down his beard, and fell drop by drop onto his throat and naked body...
...loss of the mighty Clint Frank and predicted a better-than-average record for Ducky Pond's machine. The Elis went on to stagger through the most disastrous season in Yale annals, winning two out of eight games. Now the situation is reversed. With experts foretelling nothing but lean days for the Bulldog, there are few individuals in the vicinity of New Haven who give Yale a fifty-fifty chance of improving even on last year's performance...
...poster outside an enlistment office in Newark, N. J. had to be taken down last week. Reason: It was too effective. Its screaming eagle and covey of zooming pursuit planes made every recruit want to join the Air Corps. To lean, soft-spoken Major Thomas B. Woodburn, this was cause for quiet satisfaction. With the U. S. Army upped to 227,000 men by Presidential proclamation, it is Tom Woodburn's job to boom recruiting. He paints posters to that end, rejoiced to hear that his latest was so attractive...
...that he has never left its boundaries. He and his miniature wife Dolly ("the little woman who has been my right hand man") spend their winters in Manhattan, their summers in New Mexico. Liked by everyone are Artist Sloan's portrayals of city life with its socks down: lean cats scavenging in a snowy back yard, a dust storm on Fifth Avenue, scrubwomen in a library, girls on a roof drying their hair, men lined up at a bar. Less liked are the strange, bright-colored nudes, hatched and crosshatched in red, green, black, with which he has stubbornly...