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...capped Cascade Mountains, whose passes are sheer rock faces and whose steep fir forests are gashed with crimson where scrub maple grows in the ravines. In these mountain passes the fall rains break and the woods are always wet. Wenatchee, 20 miles away, is a desert, valley, whose volcanic-ash topsoil was once barren of anything but scrub pine...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: FARMING: Gloom In Wenatchee | 10/25/1943 | See Source »

...warships, steamers, merchantmen from Mediterranean ports. It was ancient. Virgil had lived in the city when he wrote his Georgics. Cicero had loafed among the villas. On its outskirts were the ancient suburbs of Herculaneum and Pompeii, which had been mummified 1,860 years ago by Vesuvius' erupting ash. It was a sight, a pile of palaces, churches, an opera house, university, museum, an aquarium where famous pale octopuses swam in tanks. It was slovenly and filthy and loud. Hoarse-voiced women dumped their garbage from windows, chased their dirty children through the narrow streets...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: BATTLE OF ITALY: City of Havoc | 10/11/1943 | See Source »

...cigaret with a built-in ash tray-fine glass' fibers that hold the ashes as the cigaret burns...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: Science: Path of Progress | 9/27/1943 | See Source »

Franklin Roosevelt brushed an ash from his shirt front, said (perhaps to forestall peace "negotiators"): The good judgment of Italians cannot be proved, of course, until the Germans have been driven from Italian soil...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: Commander at Work | 6/21/1943 | See Source »

...with considerable hauteur, Eliot professed himself an Anglo-Catholic, a royalist and a classicist, and the chaplet of lyrics (Ash Wednesday) which celebrated his conversion remains the most richly beautiful of his poems. In the '30s, taking hints in diction from his brilliant junior W.H. Auden, he wrote the poetic dramas Murder in the Cathedral and Family Reunion. Now, at an age (54) when the talent of many good poets is dead and buried, he publishes the harvest of his last seven years, these four "quartets." Of all his poems they are the most stripped, the least obviously allusive...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: Books: At the Still Point | 6/7/1943 | See Source »

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