Word: arrowing
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...only as straight as an arrow," recalled a former agent last week on PBS's Frontline. "We had to give every perception that we were straight as arrows." In 1972, at age 77, the omnipotent FBI chief became the first civil servant to be granted a state funeral, at which he was eulogized by Richard Nixon in the Rotunda of the Capitol as "one of the giants . . . a national symbol of courage, patriotism and granite-like honesty and integrity." But the year before, bedeviled by fallout from his efforts to tap the phones of journalists, the President had confided...
...prefer Valentine's Day tales of the home-cooked variety, stories that touch on deeper affections. My Valentine's Day memories extend beyond Cupid's arrow and puppy love. Mine are the sort that says blood (the color of valentines) is thicker than water...
Matinee also offers a dislocating representation of Mant's teenage audience. Among them are a straight arrow shunned by his schoolmates, a fast girl, a juvenile delinquent -- the Gidget crowd, in short. A good point is scored about the seepage between the realities of adolescent life and the ways it is portrayed in the media. Finally, Matinee assaults the general goofiness of American life in the period -- bomb shelters, duck-and-cover air-raid drills, general prudishness and even stupid nutritional beliefs...
...noble, and slightly poignant, image of a restless, ambitious, complex man trying and trying for simplicity. "There's a line in Turgenev," he says, "in Virgin Soil, that absolutely haunts me. It's a suicide note, and the entire note is, 'I could not simplify myself.' What an arrow through the heart...
Images are an imperfect route to knowledge. They crowd the senses; they can simplify; they can yell. But they make an impact that sets in motion the deeper operations of judgment. The secular faith of the 20th century insists that history is progress, that time's arrow points the human race towards an ever brighter future. Then the world dissolves again into tribal bloodletting, and we wonder whether history is cyclical, always orbiting through the same thickets of hope and misfortune. When we look at news photographs, we bring to them the questions that history forces upon us: What should...