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Word: compassion (lookup in dictionary) (lookup stats)
Dates: during 2000-2009
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Usage:

...better or for worse, an artist gives the people exactly what they want. Philip Pullman's brief, exquisite novel ONCE UPON A TIME IN THE NORTH (Knopf; 104 pages) is fan service at its best. North is set in the same quasi-Victorian alternative universe as Pullman's Golden Compass, where every human is accompanied by a talking-animal soul mate called a daemon. It's a prequel, the story of how a young and not-yet-grizzled Lee Scoresby, gunslinging aeronaut extraordinaire, and his rabbit daemon, Hester, first met up with armored polar bear Iorek Byrnison. Nobody writes dialogue...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: A Bear Necessity | 4/3/2008 | See Source »

...year of the most recent declared figures?net sales of $1.97 billion with a net profit of $170 million. It also has 9,385 full-time employees, not to mention those working for subsidiaries around the world, many of whom have flown in from all points of the compass just for tonight...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: Big Boss | 3/18/2008 | See Source »

...company in Germany since 1998, is more casual. Tonight's finale showcases the Hugo label, the brand's most avant-garde offering, and marks the debut of Belgian designer Bruno Pieters, the first major creative appointment Boss has made outside the company since the Milan fiasco. Pieters' collection of compass-cut coats, jackets and tunics wows this audience, which rises to give a standing ovation...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: Big Boss | 3/18/2008 | See Source »

...Foote came to rely on the compass in his watch to find his way to his office. When in doubt, he would follow its arrow south...

Author: By Lois E. Beckett, CRIMSON STAFF WRITER | Title: The Blank Page | 3/18/2008 | See Source »

...Revitalized by our freakish discovery, we climed back in the car and followed my dad’s inner compass down the hill where the road emptied into a village. We bounced slowly over the cobblestones of the street, beginning to get the feeling that cars weren’t big in town. Three older Italian men in suspenders, who were tanned the color of leather from the boiling Calabrian sun, sat playing chess under the awning of a caffé while sipping espresso and motioning with their hands. Every one of them was the spitting image of my grandfather...

Author: By Francesca T. Gilberti, CRIMSON STAFF WRITER | Title: All Roads Lead to Iacurso | 3/5/2008 | See Source »

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