Word: amours
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Dates: during 1940-1949
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Perfectly Sane. During the war, Bourin had met Jacqueline ("Kiki") Rousseau* in Germany, where she had done her share of collaborating. For him, it was le grand amour. "Ah, Kiki," he sighed. "It is because of her that I am on trial. They put me in here to get her away from me. For a year she waited, but now she is married...
...Paris. The baby spotlights focused down on a singer whose face was familiar. It looked a little older now, and the figure-despite the best efforts of Parisian couturiers-was perceptibly heavier. But when Lucienne Boyer began a husky-voiced singing of her old theme song, Parlez-moi &'Amour, it was almost like old times...
...There he wrote his famed study De I'Amour, in which he presented his theory (now commonplace among psychologists) of love as a process of "crystallization." Love, he claimed, was like a ragged, bare branch that falls into a salt-mine, and when taken out a few months later is so richly coated with sparkling crystals that it appears beautiful beyond belief. Thus the passionate imagination of love renders a loved one beautiful-and, in the process, stimulates the soul of the lover to triumphs of estheticism...
...monarchist, classicist France, a few young, unknown romantics such as Victor Hugo took fire from De I'Amour. But it received only two reviews-both of which were written secretly by Stendhal himself. In Germany, the aging Goethe read History of Painting in Italy and Rome, Naples and Florence-the enthusiastic studies of Italian painters and passions signed "M. de Stendhal, former cavalry officer," and remarked appreciatively, "This man knows how to use others with skill." It was an apt remark, for it was Stendhal's habit to lift his material from others' books and then calmly...
...story is lasciviously simple, especially for those with an eye for triangles and the more intricate geometrics d'amour so deftly contrived by the remorseless Noel. At the apex is the immoral Gary Essendine (Webb), whom Noel has attempted to bless with his own aphroditie charm, the eomic pace of Grouche Marx and the caustic sauciness of Woolcott. Perched giddily atop the crotic ding dong of assorted amours is a rare fruit who barely manages to sublimate his passion for Gary. This catalogue of irregular and illicit love left the bean monde opening nighters in a happy sweat. In less...