Word: blazes
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Dates: during 1960-1969
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...Welch '66 who, on the subject of the function of the University, writes in a recent letter to the CRIMSON: "Those who would seek the Truth by endeavoring to synthesize a liberal knowledge of natural sciences, social sciences, and humanities are welcome at Harvard." Nor, surely, does he blaze new intellectual trails by resolutely declaring his opposition to Harvard's degeneration into "an intellectual factory capable of nothing more than spewing out a myriad of narrow-minded technicians and pedants." Yet Mr. Welch's stirring prose seems informed by a basic misconception of the student's obligation...
...James Lepowsky '65 woke up in Winthrop J-12 and saw the room filled with smoke. He found the closet of his roommate, Robert J. Gordon '65, aflame, and they turned in the alarm. Several fire trucks responded to the call, and the firemen doused the blaze with water...
...Puerto Rico no one can really succeed Luis Muñoz Marin-and no one knows it better than Sánchez Vilella. He is extremely shy, has none of the klieg-light blaze and charm of Muñoz. Last week, while Muñoz fought through his farewell speech, Sánchez Vilella stood nervously mopping his face with a handkerchief balled tightly around an ice cube. "I was paralyzed," he said later. "It was awful. There was one moment when the crowd was almost hysterical, shouting 'No, no,' and I was snouting it too. Inside...
...with Lenin in Lausanne, published an anticlerical newspaper with a young socialist named Benito Mussolini. When the fire of Mexico's revolution was lit in 1911, Dr. Atl returned home to kindle his country's intellectuals. Diego Rivera, Jose Clemente Orozco and David Alfaro Siqueiros caught the blaze from him. Dr. Atl became Mexico's Fine Arts Minister, promptly shut down the Fine Arts Academy as too traditional. The plutonic painter, more than anyone, pointed Mexican art toward its folklore, its social fervor and its peppery expressionism...
CARIBBEAN. At night, torches blaze in the breeze, couples congregate at thatched-roof tables, while brown-skinned babes in tighter-than-skin pants gyrate to the hot blasts and calypso beat of bongo drums and steel bands. There is no place to dance, but the itchy-footed shake or shuffle outside on the sidewalk. It's better not to mention the food, but there is a $3 minimum after...