Word: gray
(lookup in dictionary)
(lookup stats)
Dates: all
Sort By: most recent first
(reverse)
Interventions in the gray areas the Pentagon calls "operations other than war" are hardest to explain. General John Shalikashvili, Powell's successor as Chairman of the Joint Chiefs, is the man who directed the operation that provided refuge to the Kurds in Iraq, and he does not shrink from similar missions to bring succor to strife-torn countries. "We have a capacity like almost no one else," he says. Former Assistant Secretary of Defense Lawrence Korb finds Shalikashvili much more willing to get involved in brush fires than his predecessor. "Powell wanted low-risk operations," Korb says. "But Shali...
...site is more choked by red tape than Rocky Flats, in part because of its severe contamination problems. Plutonium is so toxic that inhaling a fraction of a gram can be fatal. At Rocky Flats there are 14 tons of this silver-gray metal spread all over the place. Aging buildings are tainted by plutonium spills from leaking pipes, valves and containers, and from compartments known as "infinity rooms" because their level of radioactivity is so high. Barrels of radioactive waste are stacked 15 ft. high. Fields contaminated with radioactive oil are covered by only a layer of asphalt...
...meeting with Clinton in Hyde Park two days before, U.S. intelligence agents thought they had spotted a problem. Something, it seemed, was amiss with the Russian President. His gait looked awkward; he was walking with difficulty and with his legs spread apart. His skin had taken on a disturbing gray patina. And his face appeared strangely bloated--"puffy," in the words of one American official present. In the minds of the CIA analysts, it all pointed to one thing: Yeltsin was poised on the threshold of another bout of heart trouble that could swiftly land him in the hospital...
Their faces told the tale. Splashed with mud, pelted with rain, sweating, shivering, laughing, yelling--these faces glowed, positively glowed, through a cold, gray afternoon last Sunday...
...stunning opener, The Wood-Sprite is a tale in whose mere three pages Nabokov concentrates the essence of heartache and playfulness that distinguishes the best of his work. A Russian writer who has fled the terrors of his revolutionary homeland imagines a visit from a forest elf ("hunched, gray, powdered with pollen") who explains why he too had to leave the new Soviet state: "Once, toward evening, I skipped out into a glade, and what do I see? People lying around, some on their backs, some on their bellies. Well, I think, I'll wake them...