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Word: smelling (lookup in dictionary) (lookup stats)
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...picked up by SAM radar. Over enemy infiltration routes, AC-130 Spectre gunships lay down a barrage of fire when the presence of troops is revealed by tiny air-dropped sensors no larger than a twig, including magnetic metal detectors and "people sniffers" that respond electronically to the smell of ammonia in urine...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: The Nation: The Harrowing War in the Air | 5/1/1972 | See Source »

...tenet in the Anderson credo -one that unites him both philosophically and tactically with Ralph Nader, with whom he shares material and mutual admiration. They are both obsessed by the influence of private power and big money on public men and public policy. Almost by reflex, Anderson seems to smell danger in the contacts between Government officials and private industry...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: The Square Scourge of Washington | 4/3/1972 | See Source »

...that they can taste the drama of the big city, just the way they would back in Cleveland or Chicago or New York. At dusk they position themselves in the shadow of the city's tallest, busiest building and are simultaneously bee-swarmed by the swish of traffic, smell of bagels, whistles of cops and honking of cabs while they wait to feel the electricity of the place coming right through their shoe soles from the neon-sparkly sidewalk...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: Time Essay: Where the Auto Reigns Supreme | 4/3/1972 | See Source »

...will settle for small, light electric putt-putts before they choke on their own exhaust, but not likely. In Los Angeles there is just no replacement for that mammoth steel hunk, that roaring brute car that shrinks the land, expands your reach with churning heady acceleration, burst of speed, smell of rubber, and sends you floating dangerously at dizzy speeds, free and loose and careless, across the land. ·: Timothy Tyler

Author: /time Magazine | Title: Time Essay: Where the Auto Reigns Supreme | 4/3/1972 | See Source »

...wall-to-wall Persian rugs at the Ritz-Carlton in Boston are faded. There are large worn-out spots down the middle of the hall runners where generations of peripatetic snobs have tread or trudged. I had been told that the elevators were perfumed. I didn't smell anything. Everyone had been so impressed with the fact that I was going to interview someone at the Ritz-Carlton, and had inspired me with such an otherwise non-existent curiosity about the mystique of those hallowed halls. As I walked through the doors, I indulged myself in the bad pun that...

Author: By Celia B. Betsky, | Title: The Compleat Oxonian | 3/27/1972 | See Source »

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