Word: byronic
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...have found this Med. Fac. Society to be made up of a good type of men, some of the best in the college,” said then Dean Byron S. Hurlbut, class of 1889. Several members of the Harvard administration were even rumored to be Med. Fac. men themselves. So Hurlbut struck a delicate bargain with the club: he would grant amnesty to Joy and his Med. Fac. compatriots—if they would agree to abandon the club forever...
...Powe Jr., a University of Texas law professor and former clerk to Justice William O. Douglas. Brennan has never relinquished the role. A dedicated pragmatist, the onetime New Jersey labor lawyer now uses his negotiating skills to bring the shifting middle of the court--Harry Blackmun, Lewis Powell and Byron White--closer to the liberal corner that he shares with Thurgood Marshall and often John Paul Stevens. A hesitating colleague is likely to be asked, "Would you be happier if the standard were phrased this way?" If, as often happens, he is seeking Powell's fifth vote, recalls a former...
...wasn't all intramural fun and games. The Film Department also organized public screenings of hard-core quasi-art. On one electrifying evening in 1972, critic Stuart Byron introduced Fred Halsted's dreamy, grainy, gay-sex LA Plays Itself, about which I rather coyly wrote, in Film Comment: "The cul-de-sac of narrative porn may well be the sadomasochistic fist-in-the-socket scene ... which one critic described as the most spectacular sequence since De Mille's parting of the Red Sea in The Ten Commandments." The crowd in the auditorium was respectful, if disconcerted (At the moment...
There is an apposite Byron quotation for this feeling. (I have learned over the past months, as have my roommates, that there is an apposite Byron quotation for most emotions and events.) One night in February 1817, in the midst of the Carnival in Venice, Byron staggered back to his room and wrote a poem for his friend Thomas Moore: “So we’ll go no more a-roving/ So late into the night,/ Though the heart be still as loving,/ And the moon be still as bright.// For the sword outwears its sheath...
...third and final stanza of the poem Byron wrote to Moore runs, “Though the night was made for loving,/ And the day returns too soon,/ Yet we’ll go no more a-roving/ By the light of the moon.” If you once again replace “a-roving” with “thesis-writing,” Byron’s thoughts on completing one’s thesis are pretty clear. You may not feel ready to part from it—the night was made for loving...