Word: auden
(lookup in dictionary)
(lookup stats)
Dates: all
Sort By: most recent first
(reverse)
...lively volunteers. Trustee Eleanor Roosevelt still teaches a course on the U.N., bringing the immediacy of what "Franklin"hoped for it in 1945 or what U Thant said at tea last week. With his usual furious energy, Conductor Leonard Bernstein developed the music department. Archibald MacLeish, W. H. Auden and e. e. cummings have lectured on modern poetry. Arthur Miller taught drama, and Columnist Max Lerner commutes from Manhattan to give a course on American civilization. Says Dean Clarence Berger: "We keep telling students they're taking people, not courses...
Britain's David Jones is a painter by inclination, but twice in his long life he has taken time out to write a book. In both cases, the books were highly unorthodox and highly acclaimed in esoteric circles. W. H. Auden called Anathemata (1952) "the best poem written since the war." T. S. Eliot has called In Parenthesis "a work of genius." Jarred Image. Jones claims that he was exasperated into writing In Parenthesis by the failure of other writers to describe adequately World War I's battle of the trenches as Jones had experienced...
...Night. Marriage without love and life without meaning are examined with talent, intelligence and despair by Michelangelo Antonioni (L'Avventura), whose text might be from W. H. Auden: "The glacier knocks in the closet, / The desert sighs in the bed; / The crack in the teacup opens / A lane to the land of the dead...
...Night. Marriage without love and life without meaning are examined with talent, intelligence and despair by Michelangelo Antonioni (L'Avventura), whose text might be from W. H. Auden: "The glacier knocks in the closet. The desert sighs in the bed;/ The crack in the teacup opens. A lane to the land of the dead...
...Night. Marriage without love and life without meaning are examined with talent, intelligence and despair by Michelangelo Antonioni (L'Avventura), whose text might be from W. H. Auden: "The glacier knocks in the closet,/ The desert sighs in the bed;/ The crack in the teacup opens/ A lane to the land of the dead...