Word: dreadfulness
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...come to a man's mind. He cannot contain himself and shouts them out. If the poem does not stir [people], nothing comes to pass; but if the poet's words strike them, they all draw away without a sound, under the command of a holy dread. Now he is a man no longer but a god, and anyone has license to kill...
...Clement's Episcopal Church last week for what was billed as an environmental theater baptism service. Inside, they were led into a dark room. Fixed to the walls were the haunting images of the '60s: photos of the Kennedy brothers and Martin Luther King, front pages with dread black headlines. Further on, in an open bathroom, a young man in a towel was shaving, singing We Shall Overcome. Hippiesque youngsters extended open hands with greetings of "love." The worshipers got a surprise along with the handshake: a palmful...
...City (TIME, Aug. 30). To meet the demand for hotel space, the government last month called in leaders of the local Italian and Lebanese communities and ordered them to foot the bill for two new hotels. The casinos too are once again raking in big money. More important, the dread Tonton Macoutes, or "bogeymen," who served as Papa Doc's private army of extortionists, are being relegated to the background. The warden of the notorious Fort Dimanche prison has been replaced, although an unknown number of political prisoners are still held there...
...Arthur Hailey writes holding-pattern prose. He advances one of his homunculi three-and-a-half pages toward ruin, then puts him in a holding pattern and moves some other character a totter or two toward temptation. But just before the dread jaws of fee-fi-fo-fum snap shut, there is another shift of attention, and the reader must tremble in behalf of a third wretch who has been circling perdition for two chapters, waiting for permission to land...
...many years I have borne in silence the lawlessness of your employees," Alexander Solzhenitsyn wrote to no less a personage than Yuri Andropov, head of the KGB, the dread Soviet secret police. In a letter that first circulated among his friends and then reached the West last week, the beleaguered Nobel-prizewinning writer complained that his mail had been confiscated, his telephone tapped, his apartment-and even his garden-bugged. KGB officials had also been slandering him publicly. "Now I will no longer be silent," he wrote to Andropov...