Word: wrath
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Lyndon Johnson is not the only Western leader to suffer the slings and arrows of criticism by vociferous intellectuals. As West Germany's election campaign gathers momentum, Chancellor Ludwig Erhard is also hearing the wrath of eggheads. Their complaint is hardly so dramatic an issue as Viet Nam is in the U.S.; they grumble that der Dicke and his party have been in power far too long, seem to suggest that there is far too much German prosperity for the good of the German soul...
...dancers do not smile. An old woman nods by candlelight, her face pale as death. A gypsy wedding scene seethes with movement, but the movement is angry, and the arm of the old man in the foreground seems to be raised in menace, his mouth seems to bellow wrath. Although Bihalji-Merin, who is an art critic and historian, limits the accompanying text to purely artistic comment, the pictures themselves project an unforgettable image of a hard life in a stern and somber land...
...with Castro, partly because Che preaches a tough pro-Chinese, anti-Russian line, partly because Castro blames him for Cuba's continuing economic chaos. One report has it that he quarreled with Castro at a party in the Soviet embassy, sought asylum there to avoid Fidel's wrath. A second version has Che hiding out in the Mexican embassy. He is variously supposed to have been executed at Castro's orders, slapped into prison, demoted to a junior job. However, the theory that the two men have been at odds suffered something of a blow when Fidel...
Karandas, turning on Kirkland Street, managed to get another look at his pursuer. As he swung onto Divinity Avenue, he contemplated an attack. Words of wrath formed themselves in his overheated brain, and his pace began to slacken. His unusual exertions were catching up with him--and so was Biff Bundie. On the steps of the Biology Building, Karandas finally ground to a halt. Magnificently he turned to face the young policeman. "I do not know who you are, sir," Karandas wheezed in a high-pitched whine quite foreign to his normally well-modulated tones, "but I must tell...
From hill to pasture moans the snow. The farms hug tight Their shaking ribs against the blow. There is no mercy in this night Nor scruple toits wrath. The dead Sleep light this wind being overhead...