In 1999, I was a junior in high school, and a big story in the small town of barre, Vermont, as a suspected school shooter.
The dancer—and Balanchine's wife and muse—broke barriers for Native Americans at the barre and graced stages all over the world.
Like with so many “weird kids,” I left most of my nasty cycle behind when I left barre to go to college.
Continuing the wandering one reached the fine old town gate, the ancient Porte de la barre, in a good state of preservation.
barre, as we have said, sided with the Mountain on this occasion.
All the other chiefs of parties had some good qualities; and barre had none.
But there is that horrible Lactantius, who lives peacefully, barre, and Mignon.
I guess I'm in the wrong pew politically; very few democrats in barre.
He told me he had cut thorough him a barre's length, for he durst not write so boldly.
Two remain vague—a fattish, holiday-making banker and a consumptive from barre, Vermont.