Word: mild
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Dates: during 1940-1949
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...Anyone Deny? Increased taxes, Douglas said emphatically, were not the answer; a tax boost now, when the nation was in a mild slump, might be just the kind of shock that would put the present economy flat on its back. "It is very foolish for us to act on the basis of conditions of five or six months ago," said Douglas...
...steel-rimmed glasses in the Senate Caucus room last week and took a soldier's look at the North Atlantic Treaty. The diplomats and statesmen had argued out the legal niceties of the pact. Infantryman Bradley skipped the fine print and drove to the main point. In his mild, high-pitched voice, Bradley told the Senate's Foreign Relations Committee: "Our frontiers of collective defense lie in common with theirs [the other treaty nations'] in the heart of Europe...
...gauged the temper of mild, white-haired Federal Judge Albert L. Reeves with the eye of a mule trader sizing up a parson; after that he did everything but shoot off firecrackers under the judge's nose. He objected incessantly. He told bad jokes. He brayed, waved his arms, and quoted the Bible with enthusiastic piety. On one of those rare occasions when the judge reproved him, he replied obsequiously, "Beggars mustn't be choosers and I'm happy to get what you're gonna give me ... I subside." Then he would continue as before...
Books v. Convertibles. Stoke wasted no time. As some students sized him up, he was a friendly, mild-mannered political scientist, still youthful and brisk at 44, whose idea of a good time was to sit down in his study with a copy of Bertrand Russell. But L.S.U. found new President Stoke meant business about keeping politics off the campus at Baton Rouge. He wanted Louisianans to understand that the university was for education and not "an instrumentality of government." Nor was the university a playground. "Give a student a convertible and a textbook," he said, "and you cannot expect...
Sweaty Me. The novel is in the form of a diary kept by a solitary scholar in 1932 in a French provincial town. Starting with mild expressions of disgust at existence, the entries run a truly resourceful gamut of the grotesque, the dispiriting, and the desperate. There is not a human being in the book who is not in some way loathsome, and the hyperconsciousness of the diarist soon gets to the point of seeing everything in a light both ghastly and obscene. One of Novelist Sartre's revelations...