Source of bean sprouts

Usage examples of mung.

If we had about six jars of beans sprouting then we could rotate them and have something different every day: things like mung beans, aduki beans, fenugreek and chick peas.

Which stands as the leading question of the year, because Munger rummaged around in the folds of his toga and came up with a Mistral coagulator, which he then pointed at my head.

The firelight gleamed from the polished skin of Duodecimus Munger, who had doffed the formal toga and assumed the simple loincloth of the jungle.

I had all that time to sit there, trying to figure out where Munger was making those duplicate bills, and what was so important about that tree.

If I could have gotten loose somehow, I would have grabbed my gun, which Munger now had strapped to his waist, and shot that berserk drummer before even thinking about making a break for it.

Neither Munger nor I were in a mood for small talk or pleasant conversation by that time.

It is nearly identical with the language still spoken in Tirhut, the ancient Mithili, and in Munger and Bhagalpur, the ancient Magadha, than modern Bengali.

Edward Avery, Toyo Biddle, Loren Bussert, Yee Chang, Eric Crystal, Paul DeLay, Timothy Dunnigan, Francesca Farr, Tim Gordon, Glenn Hendricks, Marc Kaufman, Sue Levy, Blia Yao Moua, Dang Moua, Ron Munger, George Schreider, Peter Vang, Jonas Vangay, Doug Vincent, John Xiong, and May Ying Xiong provided helpful background information.

Professor Strickler, who taught Hebrew, and Professor Munger, who taught Homiletics, each of whom had been trying for years to discredit the other in the opinion of the parsons over a region five hundred miles in diameter.

If we had about six jars of beans sprouting then we could rotate them and have something different every day: things like mung beans, aduki beans, fenugreek and chick peas.

It is nearly identical with the language still spoken in Tirhut, the ancient Mithili, and in Munger and Bhagalpur, the ancient Magadha, than modern Bengali.

Plumber put the mung in a box over a heavy little gas generator that provided electricity for the tubes that emitted electrons, smiled at Sister Beatrice, and then fried her to a gloppy stain seeping through the wicker.

Like a mung bean my body stretched up toward the great grow lamp in the sky, and my case was even more significant because I continued to grow in the dark.

The jar did not, and broken glass and mung beans flew from hell to breakfast.

Done what she had to do, which was (as far as she knew) to watch her new friend Tommy get her brains broken by a jug of mung beans.