Word: breaths
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Dates: during 1970-1979
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...friends from the past; each of them faces the same dilemna of marriage versus career once again, and for the last time each attempts to discover what it is she wants and how that goal can be attained. The women who 20 years ago took a deep breath and gulped down bourbon have matured to white wine, but in their new sophistication they remain as drawn to New York's lure as ever, continually drifting deeper into its magnetic but violent anonymity...
...remains an important book with a new kind of timeliness. Not So Wild a Dream can stand on its own as an intelligent, eloquent accounting of a generation that had to survive the Depression and World War II in order to reach maturity-and then took a long, deep breath because the worst simply had to be behind. Didn't it? The book is also the curiously touching will and testament of a last liberal, predicated on hopes for that 1940s happy ending, a better world, but steadily haunted by intuitions that this...
Wooing Nader. Carter's road show was boffo with Consumer Advocate Ralph Nader, who proclaimed Carter "a breath of fresh air." During a visit with Carter in Plains, Ga., the generally aloof Nader even allowed himself to be roped into umpiring a Softball game-the only one Pitcher Carter has lost in eight outings. (Joking about Nader's performance as an umpire, Carter later quipped: "Both sides said he was lousy-and I can't disagree with that.") Two days after the Plains visit, Nader introduced Carter at a Public Citizen forum in Washington, at which...
...drums. In the Hook, the victim is hoisted off the ground by his hands, which are tied behind his back in such a way that the stretching of the nerves often causes paralysis of the arms. Says one Uruguayan torture victim: "People on the Hook cannot take a deep breath or hardly any breath. They just moan; it's a dreadful, almost inhuman noise...
...extend his artistic philosophy, Saint Laurent is now working on a book for several hours a day. As prolific a writer as he is a designer, he expects to have the first volume ready for publication next year. It is not an autobiography, he insists, adding in the same breath, "I lay myself bare." Publishers are pounding on his door, even on the beaten brass portals of his Saharan retreat. They should not be disappointed: Saint Laurent is articulate, well read and capable of turning a phrase as neatly as a hem. For example: "Over the years...