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...last three Godkin lecturers, further implies that Harvard "is more concerned with repairing damaged careers than in the more prosaic task of pursuing and disseminating the truth." In judging the University's selection of its guest lecturers, Newsweek's analyst has suggested that "Harvard is haunted by the faint smell of witches burned centuries ago and is obsessed by the belief that the public is always wrong...

Author: NO WRITER ATTRIBUTED | Title: The Open Mind | 2/25/1957 | See Source »

...closing scenes, in which Andrey and Natasha were reunited as Andrey lay on his deathbed. Through his delirium he hears a pulsing beat, played in the orchestra by the strings sul ponticello (bow strokes near the bridge), and echoes it over and over again in a faint, falling cry. In one of Prokofiev's most dramatic musical inventions, the orchestra announces Andrey's approaching death-a scene that ranks among the greatest ever written for opera...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: Music: Prokofiev & Tolstoy | 1/21/1957 | See Source »

Pole vaulters Kip Smith and Don Richards have both graduated, leaving a huge void which must be filled by sophomores Dick Williams, Barnes Keller, and Barrett Churchill. Keller has looked the best so far, which, at this point, is unfortunately damning with faint praise...

Author: By William C. Sigal, | Title: LINING THEM UP | 1/17/1957 | See Source »

Behind Small War on Murray Hill lies the faint shadow of a great war all over the world that had colored Sherwood's thinking and that gives his play, at moments, a certain pensive grace. But it has given it neither dramatic fiber nor intellectual focus. Offering well-turned prose rather than vivacious dialogue, Small War is too reflective for light comedy, yet it is not nearly stimulating enough for a comedy of ideas...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: The Theater: New Play in Manhattan, Jan. 14, 1957 | 1/14/1957 | See Source »

...against man, and winning. What was once snow now looks like low-grade mud, feels like cold porridge, and acts with a diabolical intelligence. This Cambridge variety preys on nice elderly ladies with full shopping bags and weak ankles, lying in wait to capitalize upon the slightest mis-step. Faint yips are all that remain of a dog who attempted to cross the Square; six Volkswagens so far have disappeared into Massachusetts Avenue; and a small child who slipped from his mother's hand and wandered into the street has not been recovered. Considering the urgency of the matter...

Author: NO WRITER ATTRIBUTED | Title: How Cold Our Toes, Tiddley-Poom | 1/11/1957 | See Source »

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