Word: thread
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...Some Frenchmen, it is true, seem to regard the crisis as the next-to-last straw. Thunders Editor Pierre Brisson in Figaro: "It is no longer a Parliament, but a monstrous jamming enterprise. The conclusion is to reform or disappear. The margin for the Assembly is only a thread's width." But, unhappily for M. Brisson, his readers can remember that only two days ago a Figaro photographer, sent out to photograph Reneé Pleven at his hour of decision, found a more interesting subject in a game of boules being played by a group of taxi drivers...
...test line for anglers who weigh under 200 Ibs.; no more than null test line for the heavyweights. Gifford has nothing but explosive contempt for "muscleheads" who insist on fishing for saltwater monsters with "rope." He explains, between oaths: "Most fishermen aren't strong enough to handle 39-thread (130-lb. test line) and keep pressure on a fish. I've seen them taken off the boat dead or go back home and die of a heart attack. Secondly, rope doesn't give the fish a fair chance. If you can't fish for fun, then...
...shoulders, Sindbad the Sailor thought he was merely performing a small favor. But once the Old Man's legs were locked about his neck, Sindbad seemed doomed to carry his burden forever. This theme, that one good turn deserves another, and another and another, runs like a magic thread through nearly half the 13 short stories in this new book by Bernard Malamud, 44, an assistant professor of English at Oregon State College whose The Assistant (TIME, April 29, 1957) was one of the best of last year's U.S. novels...
...Gold Thread. When his mother finally takes the boy to a Copenhagen specialist it is too late to do more than prolong his eyesight for a few years, but back home in the town concert hall it is still early enough for the boy to find an exciting new sense of vocation. A violin note spins out over the hushed audience, "thin and glittering like a gold thread in sunlight . . . the echo felt like a kind of weeping in one's chest. A weeping that could not be wept." At novel's end, with a profound sense...
...There's a sort of thread that runs through history," he continued, "which one might call the liberal, progressive, or radical tradition. But it must be recreated by each generation. The radical groups of the past have done good things, but they have failed to see the changes and have persisted in their same old ways. I thought the Communist Party would change, but it didn't. We put up a good fight." Thoughts of a tired fighter come home to rest...