cruces

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cru·ces

 (kro͞o′sēz)
n.
A plural of crux.

cruces

(ˈkruːsiːz)
n
a plural of crux

crux

(krʌks)

n., pl. crux•es, cru•ces (ˈkru siz)
1. the central or pivotal point; essence: the crux of the matter.
2. a perplexing difficulty.
3. a cross.
[1635–45; < Latin: scaffold used in executions, torment]
References in classic literature ?
Philip took it up and saw that it was a volume of Spanish verse, the poems of San Juan de la Cruz, and as he opened it a sheet of paper fell out.
"Well, you know all about San Juan de la Cruz, don't you?"
"He says to tell you he will be in Vera Cruz the beginning of next month,"-- clatter, clatter!--"and if you still have the intention of joining him"--bang!
On two occasions I saw some ostriches swimming across the Santa Cruz river, where its course was about four hundred yards wide, and the stream rapid.
It was taken by the chief Neapolitan galley called the She-wolf, commanded by that thunderbolt of war, that father of his men, that successful and unconquered captain Don Alvaro de Bazan, Marquis of Santa Cruz; and I cannot help telling you what took place at the capture of the Prize.
He first cast anchor at Botany Bay, visited the Friendly Isles, New Caledonia, then directed his course towards Santa Cruz, and put into Namouka, one of the Hapai group.
His Santa Cruz boat's-crew escaped in the whale-boat to Choiseul, and Mather, in the Lily, sailed over to Marovo.
I recruited them for Aolo, and being salt-water men they put them on the Sandfly that was lost on the way to the Santa Cruz. They've got a jack-pot over there on the weather coast--my word, the boy that could get my head would be a second Carnegie!
The Company had plantations on the Santa Cruz Islands, hundreds of miles across the sea, and there it sent its Solomon Islands' incorrigibles.
The uneducated foreigner could not even furnish a Santa Cruz Punch, an Eye- Opener, a Stone-Fence, or an Earthquake.
Baldly as he had stated it, in his eyes was a rich vision of that hot, starry night at Salina Cruz, the white strip of beach, the lights of the sugar steamers in the harbor, the voices of the drunken sailors in the distance, the jostling stevedores, the flaming passion in the Mexican's face, the glint of the beast-eyes in the starlight, the sting of the steel in his neck, and the rush of blood, the crowd and the cries, the two bodies, his and the Mexican's, locked together, rolling over and over and tearing up the sand, and from away off somewhere the mellow tinkling of a guitar.
He saw the flat cars, piled high with the bodies of the slain, consigned to Vera Cruz, food for the sharks of the bay.