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...amused patriarch, clad in a neat coat-and-tie ensemble, went on to deliver an anecdote-laden address extolling the importance of travel and diverse experiences to the cultivation of perspective and the pursuit of positive change...

Author: By Christian B. Flow, CRIMSON STAFF WRITER | Title: Kristof Talks Idealism at KSG | 6/6/2007 | See Source »

...Super Bowl Sunday in early February, there was little Drew Gilpin Faust could do to lose. With her husband by her side and her mutt Clio on a leash, the business-suit-clad Faust strolled down Brattle Street, the historic Victorian way to the west of Harvard Yard. Outside the Garage complex on John F. Kennedy Street, she handed the leash to her husband and hopped into a waiting car headed for downtown Boston. There she would face and finally win over the nine-member group of lawyers, academics, and businessmen hunting for Harvard’s next president...

Author: By Javier C. Hernandez and Daniel J. T. Schuker, CRIMSON STAFF WRITERSS | Title: The Ascension of Faust | 6/6/2007 | See Source »

...Yeah! We've got to unite by all playing more soccer," sang the chorus of teenagers surrounding Reyes. Clad in their school's soccer uniform, the youngsters had just spent the day watching their President take several long shots on goal...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: The Andes Braces for a New Soccer War | 5/31/2007 | See Source »

...mosque and was drinking a juice and eating a sandwich," he said. "He was only 24 and they shot him like a dog." Bilal died on the sidewalk of a narrow dirty street of drab apartment blocks on one side and a small garden and beige stone clad mosque on the other. Since his death, the Lebanese army and police apparently have not entered the area, wary of the simmering resentment in this close-knit quarter...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: Tripoli Police Bullets Create a Martyr | 5/27/2007 | See Source »

...striving entrepreneurs, the city is defined by its intimate sense of neighborhood, what Girard calls its "lived-in-ness." Walk Shanghai's alleyways at night and inhale the smell of braised pork wafting out of a communal kitchen, hear the slap of a shuttlecock struck by a pajama-clad girl, catch a glimpse of a chandelier in a threadbare bedroom-once part of a ballroom in some silk merchant's mansion, now subdivided to house a dozen families. Yet I know this Shanghai-my Shanghai, Girard's Shanghai-is vanishing. All that will be left are these phantom images...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: Disappearing Act | 5/3/2007 | See Source »

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