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Word: rub (lookup in dictionary) (lookup stats)
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...proved a worthy successor to the HTW, and managed to rub out all debts and build up a surplus. The talented pillars of the group, besides Bowen, were John G. Kerr '52, P. Michael Mabry '53, Donald Ogden Stewart '53, and Theodore L. Gershuny...

Author: By Caldwell Titcomb, | Title: College Post-War Student Theatre: 332 Shows Staged by 47 Groups | 10/2/1958 | See Source »

...subway shudder and the sigh. Night warms is black limbs by the gutter fires and furnace spit. We should bottle the night, prone and passive, siphon it into leather canteen flasks, take swigs of it while sunning ourselves by the river, savour it after a French loave-lunch, rub it on our arm in lieu of excrement...

Author: By John D. Leonard, | Title: DOWN and OUT in Cambridge | 9/18/1958 | See Source »

...away. He can be a charming, top-hatted and white-gloved diplomat-or a deadly antagonist. Says an admiring British Commonwealth diplomat: "He is a joy to behold in action. I have never seen any man who could sit at a conference table and smile and nod and rub his hands-and, when the occasion demands, be so coldly vicious." Thus, in Lebanon last fortnight, when Nasserite Rebel Leader Saeb Salam threatened to pitch U.S. marines into the sea, Murphy's eyes turned hard, and he began cracking his knuckles like a machine gun. Said he: "You know...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: FOREIGN RELATIONS: Five-Star Diplomat | 8/25/1958 | See Source »

Working with special cellulose paints guaranteed not to rub off or chip, Artist Bernard Buffet turned out a typical still life complete with pink fish, got an offer of 2,000,000 francs ($5,000) for it. Cocteau drew a doodle, surrounded it with blue blobs. Tube-Squirter Georges Mathieu held himself down, produced only some wispy black lines and fuchsia smears. Oldtime Surrealist Léonor Fini turned her refrigerator into a Chinese lacquer box decorated with stalking cats...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: Art: Ice Cubism | 7/14/1958 | See Source »

...subway shudder and the sigh. Night warms its black limbs by the gutter fires and furnace spit. We should bottle the night, prone and passive, siphon it into leather canteen flasks, take swigs of it while sunning ourselves by the river, savour it after a French loave-lunch, rub it on our arm in lieu of excrement...

Author: By John D. Leonard, | Title: Down 'n' Out in Cambridge: The Soybean Cult | 6/30/1958 | See Source »

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