Word: torning
(lookup in dictionary)
(lookup stats)
Dates: all
Sort By: most recent first
(reverse)
...displays are trimmed with Tannenbaum branches and Christmas decorations, but the people remain grim and unconvivial. At the intersection of Wilhelmstrasse and Unter den Linden, knots of East Berliners gather to stare wistfully westward through the columns of the Brandenburg Gate. Murmured a bespectacled worker: "The Americans should have torn down the Wall. Now it is too late...
...deep, burning bitterness among the Katangese-blacks as well as the white settlers-at the U.N.'s show of strength. "Photograph the tears. It's the tears you like, isn't it?" shrieked one weeping man to the foreign news photographers at work in the shell-torn streets. And the people of Elisabethville would never forget or forgive the bomb blasts that killed the innocent; a wild-eyed Belgian drove up to a group of foreign correspondents, shouting "Look, look at the work of the American gangsters!" In the back seat were two bloodied civilians...
...strife-torn world, tottering on the brink of complete destruction by man-made nuclear weapons, a free and independent Africa is in the making, in answer to the injunction and challenge of history: 'Arise and shine, for thy light is come...
...cannot yet, are about to, or can just about read. Are these colored noncomics for the first grade? Or are they to be regarded not as books at all, but as some kind of toy barely distinguishable from building blocks except that they are flatter and can be torn up? The economics of such kiddieware is impressive. One, a book written and illustrated by Tomi Ungerer, is about a cute bat and offers 334 words for $2.95, which would be fair enough if the author-artist personally baby-sat with each small customer. "Bats. Not for me," observed...
...difficult for the week-stomached, it is impossible. Characters and scenes float in and out of the with a wonderfully picaresque irregularity of Rabelaisian humor are broken off unexpectedly by passages approaching the drunken, frenzied poetry of a Rimbaud. Obscurity and philosophy, squalor and rhapsody are juxtaposed, crammed together, torn apart and tossed wildly, as if the book were the mixing bowl in which Miller, the mad chef, were preparing a salad -- to fling in the face of the diners. But not even in obscenity or nihilistic frenzy do we find a bit of solid ground. Obsence protests are continually...