Word: byronical
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...genius, in the 19th century," wrote Stendhal, "there is no alternative: he is either a fool or a monster." The great French novelist made this remark after meeting the one great romantic genius of Europe whose monstrous capacities were never in doubt: George Gordon, Lord Byron...
...other poet evoked in his contemporaries the burning curiosity, the passionate enthusiasm and revulsion, that Byron aroused wherever he went. It is an understatement to say that people were mad about Byron; people still are-still consumed with the desire to find out what he stood for and why he had such an overpowering influence on everyone who met him. His Very Self and Voice, instead of reaching one conclusion about him, offers the readers dozens from which to choose...
...Died. Byron Schermerhorn Harvey, 78, chairman of the board and chief executive officer of Fred Harvey, Inc., mid-and-far-western restaurant and hotel chain; of an intestinal blockage; in Chicago. Born the year his father opened the first Harvey restaurant at the Santa Fe Railroad station in Topeka, Kans., Byron Harvey grew up with the chain, watched it flourish as his father staffed it with the best-looking waitresses he could find. He succeeded to the presidency himself in 1928, in 26 years tripled the volume of business, served 30 million meals a year in Harvey restaurants, hotels...
...W.C.T.U., had fallen far below the old records. Gone were the uninhibited, wine-purpled, 100-proof, side-of-the-mouth bottle-swigging days of the swashbuckling young Ernest Hemingway who was "the bronze god of the whole literary experience in America," the lion-hunting, trophy-bagging, bullfight-loving Lord Byron of America. "I am a little beat up," Ernest Hemingway now admits, "but I assure you it is only temporary...
Here and there in his earliest work, the teen-age poet experiments with the echoes of Byron and Coleridge that gave grace to such later ethereal nonsense as the White Knight's song in Through the Looking-Glass-a minor classic if read through half-closed eyes in a willing suspension of common sense. In Clara, young Carroll writes...