Word: bores
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Dates: during 1970-1979
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...moved to Palestine in 1921 to join the Zionist movement there. Eventually, David Ben-Gurion persuaded her to Hebraize her name to Meir, which means "illumination." She bore a son and a daughter to her husband Morris, a lukewarm Zionist from whom she was later separated (he has since died). Mrs. Meir preferred politics to housekeeping and joined the Histadrut, the Jewish Labor Federation. Her rise after that in the government and Labor Party was swift...
...critic, you can usually predict whether you'll like the film in question. Many readers operate that way, indeed, have no choice but to operate that way. Judith Crist hated it, so it's either a bomb or very intellectual; Stanley Kaufman liked it, so it's probably a bore. Andrew Sarris hedged, so it might be a masterpiece. And on it goes...
...first book on pop art, an emetically extravagant volume by a writer named John Rublowsky. Yet who today shall say he was not right? By 1965 pop had become the most popular movement in American art history, drenched in ballyhoo, gratefully supported by legions of collectors whose appetites bore the same relation to connoisseurship that TV dinners do to poulet en demi-deuil. Warhol, Lichtenstein, Indiana, Rosenquist, Wesselmann, Oldenburg, Johns and Rauschenberg became instant household names, not counting their swarm of epigones. "What we have with the pop artists," wrote the English critic Lawrence Alloway, "is a situation in which...
...found that 43 of the infants died after parents and doctors decided jointly to discontinue treatment. The other 256, who received the best treatment modern medicine could provide, fared no better; few lived longer than the infants who received no special care. Furthermore, their short existence in many cases bore little relation to human life. One infant, who could not breathe on his own, was kept alive for five months as a virtual extension of a mechanical respirator...
...theatrical intensity. One, called "Twinka," is confusing. A frail, attractive girl wearing a diaphanous dress crouches at the base of a gnarled redwood, one arm spanning her breast to clutch a low branch. But her uncanny expression could never be elicited or tolerated by a male photographer: her eyes bore straight out, wide and threatening...