Word: bloomed
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Dates: during 1960-1969
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...manes of monkey fur and feathers, they banged on the doors of the Residence Victoria with spears and gun butts, roughly hustled their white hostages out into the street. For an hour, the skies over Stanleyville had pulsed with airplane engines and apprehension. Watchers on the rooftops saw parachutes bloom and fall over the airfield to the west; gunfire ticked closer in the near distance. The Belgians had come, and help for the hostages was on its way-fast, but for many not fast enough...
...quoted as having found it "gigantically laughable." Well, maybe. But unlike Candy, the bestselling pornographic novel that passes itself off as a satire on pornography, Drive, He Said is serious as all get out. Most of its fun is unintentional. Thus, in one chapter, Basketball Player Hector Bloom and his chick Olive spend a busy evening nuzzling each other outside a diner, are chased over hill and dale by a Cadillac jammed with knife-wielding apists (strangely, they seem to be baddies), make passionate love to celebrate their escape. Then Hector, "in his last thought before he curled into...
...mass-produced, Lyndon sounded every bit as Utopian. "We are going to have to rebuild our cities," he said. "We are going to have to reshape our mass transit facilities. We have to purify our air and to desalt our oceans. We are going to make all the deserts bloom." Think Positively. Just how would all this be done? Never mind the details, said Lyndon in effect. Just think positively. "All we need to do now," he cried, "is to go around and talk about positive things. About the issues, about peace, about prosperity, about social security, about jobs, about...
Most of these poems are restrained when compared with Walt Whitman's effusive When Lilacs Last in the Dooryard Bloom'd. Nor are they elegiac in the usual sense. In poetry as elsewhere, the sea of faith has receded, and poets no longer have recourse to the traditional symbols of comfort and deliverance. The poems are for the most part stoical, terse, plainspoken. But all of them bespeak a grief as great as any poetry of the past...
...prospector relates his own near-farcical version of what happened, The Outrage has already set the audience snickering. Even Howe's limpid, meticulous photography cannot redeem the dialogue, which the actors often appear to be addressing to Destiny rather than to one another, perhaps out of kindness. Actress Bloom intones: "He couldn't touch all we've been to each other." Newman's bandit is a growling comic-strip Mexican who leers: "You cooked dee pot of tamales, I juz' took off dee lid." And in the film's bumbling climax, ironic tragedy turns...