Word: colloquy
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...During a colloquy with reporters last week, Carter observed that Lyndon Johnson had never been fully accepted by Eastern liberals. "Why," he was asked, "would you think you could be?" Replied Carter: "Because I'm sure of myself." Like the platform, that statement produced little argument...
...liar and a thief (like his protonym in Greek mythology), one can't help loving the rascal, Gwynne has a way of taking lines that are obscure on the page and making them seem perfectly natural. He can also put over Shakespeare's puns--as when, in a colloquy about a three-voice song,he turns a ballad scroll into a phallus while assuring the others. "I can bear my part." He handles his several songs with aplomb too--especially his first. "When daffodils begin," which is appropriately, an example of the old reverdie, a song of nature...
...obsession the brothers never lost: at the slightest provocation, they are still ready to supply facts that might have come from these early lists. "Stonehenge is like the Alamo--it is not very impressive," one McWhirter may remark in passing. It is all but certain to begin a colloquy in which the brothers correct and interrupt each other, finish one another's sentences, and leap from one millennium to the next--all of it calmly, perfectly reasonably, in clipped accents, as though nothing else could possibly be expected. "Not very impressive? Well, how could it be? Built 1900 years before...
With the jury either out of the courtroom or beyond earshot, the judicial colloquy was astonishingly frank. Weary of the angry wrangles between the defense counsel and prosecutors, the blunt Sirica mused at one point: "Maybe I shouldn't say what is on my mind." But he did. Staring sternly at former Attorney General John Mitchell, a defendant, Sirica said of the Nixon aides who had plotted to bug Democratic National Headquarters at meetings in Mitchell's office: "It's too bad that Mr. Mitchell didn't say: 'Throw them out of here. Get them...
...midst of a recent radio interview by Liberal Columnist Nat Hentoff, William F. Buckley Jr., the elegantly acerbic conservative commentator, suddenly stopped short the colloquy, looked down, and testily muttered, "Shut up." Moments later he paused and clonked something below. Left-wing kibitzers in the studio audience? No, Buckley's target was his King Charles spaniel Rowley, which he had brought to the studio. Showing that he bore no ill will, Rowley then jumped into Buckley's .lap and planted a slurpy kiss on his cheek. All of which left Hentoff with somewhat more of an interview than...