Word: anger
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Dates: during 1970-1979
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...helped plan, questioning the Great Society, testing the limits of liberalism. The napalm and the hungry children and the urban rubble had left their mark on this man. He had heard the chants of the demonstrators, seen the blank, glum stares of the unemployed, felt the smoldering anger that erupted at Watts and Detroit and Neward, Robert Kennedy, like many of us, searched for an answer...
THAT WAS the tragedy of Robert Kennedy's last years -- the awful tension between his surfacing humane anger and the dictates of practical politics, a tension he stretched to the utmost limits. Robert Kennedy walking in the ghettoes was responding to more than the imperatives of politics; the rage welling up in him was sensed by all of us; we felt a certain bond of understanding even as we repudiated his political proposals. Tom Hayden, who wrote the original SDS charter in 1962, had spent a decade patiently explaining that the American crisis demanded a radical solution, that...
Robert F. Kennedy '48 will not be at his 25th Harvard Reunion. It is already five years just last week since Robert Kennedy was assassinated in the seamy basement of a Los Angeles Hotel. Yet the anger he glimpsed and started to give voice to in the last years of his life has survived him, quieter now, smoldering again instead of burning. The people whose cause he championed still live amid the rubble, but they have not forgotten him. And the rest of us, touched by his earnest struggle to bring coherence to the madness, sensing a growing bond...
...cannot even bring himself to exterminate a neighbor's annoying dog. Yet his mind is a charnel house of potential victims, executed because he thinks nearly everyone around him helped send his mistress's son to death in Viet Nam. Incurably infected by the anger and violence of the past decade, Brown fires off anonymous and threatening letters to presidents, neighbors, even chance acquaintances who displease...
Mark Harris, 50, has always worked a vein of comedy bordering on moral outrage. Even his pastoral baseball nov els of the '50s (The Southpaw, Bang the Drum Slowly) were brushed with sad ness. The undertone of finely controlled anger that ran through Harris' early works grew, in the '60s, into the hectoring shrillness of a prophet scorned...