Word: quainted
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...Quaint Expression. The taxi industry is maintaining a stiff upper meter. According to Arthur Gore, publisher of the trade sheet Taxi News, "It is only a question of time before people come round." But with the imminence of summer, traditionally a slack season anyway, drivers aren't so sure. "I drove all the way from Wall Street to the East Side without a fare today," lamented Max Fuchs. "With a situation like this, I feel like getting loaded...
...unworthy the dignity of Seniors. To a certain extent this charge is true: but it is so unbecoming to play the boy for a few moments before we separate to take our places in the world as men The costumes which this exercise compels us to don are often quaint, if not handsome, and at least offer some relief to the eye from the dress-suits worn the rest of the day. The mock affection of the embraces can hardly be called a deception, since no one supposes that the number of our friends is to be counted...
...there any place a mutant can get a decent meal around here?" That quaint query is a line from a "contemporary and American opera" called Escalator Over the Hill. And who is recording it but Viva, underground superstar of such Andy Warhol hand-held flicks as Blue Movie and Bike Boy, and brand-new author of a rather autobiographical and hilariously funny novel called Superstar. Mrs. Michel Auder in relatively real life, Viva combines the best features of a beautiful woman, a four-year-old child and a man from Mars, and is about to try a new role: motherhood...
...A.A.A.S.'s quaint electoral protocol again was on his side; he would first have to serve out a year as president-elect, he noted, before he actually assumed the presidency in 1972. By that time, the dispute over the radiation standards might be settled. Seaborg's sang-froid was characteristic. A tall (6 ft. 3 in.) and shambling figure, he has become something of a legend in Washington for his ability to duck controversy. During the intense debate over whether the U.S. should build an H-bomb, he managed to retain the friendship of both Robert Oppenheimer...
...painted the scenes on the mind. Bright-smiling women, their cheeks pinked only with the flush of zeal, ladling out free dinners in a Skid Row mission. Clear-eyed men in high military collars, tootling on flügelhorns and euphoniums on chilly street corners. A brisk song, a quaint sermon. A bunk for the stumbling drunk. Even that perennial embarrassment, an outstretched tambourine and a copy of The War Cry thrust suddenly into the midst of the regulars at the bar. Courage. Honesty. Efficiency. Trouble in the Salvation Army? Humbug...