His spoke slowly, drawing out names as if he'd only recently remembered them – as if he had been having cocktails since just past breakfast, perhaps.
The sandy-haired man, trying to put his spoke in and win favor, split his face into a smile as well.
The New Yorker, May 10 , 1941P. 9 The gentlemen of the Hearst press were busy accusing young Mr. Orson Welles of Communism because a moving picture of his spoke disrespectfully about their employer.
By E. K. Thurlow and Wolcott Gibbs The New Yorker, May 10 , 1941P. 9 The gentlemen of the Hearst press were busy accusing young Mr. Orson Welles of Communism because a moving picture of his spoke disrespectfully about their employer.
My pace was slow; a mountain biker whizzed past me, his spokes clattering as small stones ricocheted off.
Snyder has bought and paid for his spokes-tokenism and his astroturf, but more importantly, he believes he has history on his side.
The world's greatest tricycle rider is in my heart, riding like a wildman, no hands, almost upside down, along the walls and over the high curbs and stoops, his bell rapid-firing, the sun spinning in his spokes like a flame.
It begins: The world's greatest tricycle rider is in my heart, riding like a wildman, no hands, almost upside down, along the walls and over the high curbs and stoops, his bell rapid-firing, the sun spinning in his spokes like a flame.
Watching the charges of deals and payoffs, Americans can feel like the naïve young cyclist in the classic movie "Breaking Away" who wants to participate in the world sport, only to have a more seasoned Italian cyclist stick a pump in his spokes.
By C. K. Williams **{:.break one} ** The world's greatest tricycle rider is in my heart, riding like a wildman, no hands, almost upside down, along the walls and over the high curbs and stoops, his bell rapid-firing, the sun spinning in his spokes like a flame.
**{:.break one} ** The world's greatest tricycle rider is in my heart, riding like a wildman, no hands, almost upside down, along the walls and over the high curbs and stoops, his bell rapid-firing, the sun spinning in his spokes like a flame.
