Word: eyed
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Paul Gilligan, my brother Daniel Seltzer and I used to joke, was the ultimate “golden boy.” It was an expression Dan and I had coined at Harvard, mostly for Paul, to describe someone who was the apple of his family’s eye, someone who carried the hopes of many on his shoulders, and someone who wore his enormous potential with a winning smile and an easy heart. He was the kind of person who, when he shook his hair, sent a shower of soft light into the world...
...weighty shadow that creeps along the edges of cosmopolitan San Jose. They will not be forgotten as long as even taxi drivers, that typically fearless breed of city dweller, refuse to set foot in their ramshackle villages in broad daylight. Their festering humanity, heartrending as it is to the eye, has its virtue in visibility...
...bench across the street from my apartment waiting for the bus. Although it’s technically winter here, all I need is a jean jacket to fight the morning chill. This morning, as I stand up to board, I see a figure out of the corner of my eye: a man clad in a wetsuit, surfboard in hand, running down the street to catch a quick wave before work...
...persuade voters to spend more on aid, and to make it more embarrassing for relatively recalcitrant countries like the U.S. and Germany to keep their wallets shut. Behind the scenes, the coordination among 10 Downing Street, the British Treasury and the activists - though they don't always see eye to eye - is constant and intense. Geldof came up with the idea for the Africa Commission that Blair enthusiastically implemented, laying out a detailed program for reform. With the precision of a wizened diplomat, Bono has learned to modulate between gut-wrenching appeals to conscience and public back-pats for leaders...
...least, a busy movie. But it is also a curiously persuasive one. Maybe it is somehow easier to believe that a shady character living on the dark side of the City of Light might harbor high cultural aspirations. Then, too, Audiard has the French eye for mean streets. And cramped apartments. And less than salubrious bars and restaurants. The picture feels--as so many French films do--lived in, not art-directed...