Word: flame
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...virtues of Liberman's art and its expressive limitations: "The distinguishing characteristic of the dandy's beauty consists above all in an air of coldness. You might call it a latent fire which hints at itself, and which could-but chooses not to-burst into flame...
...salesman, who married Sally (Dorothy Collins), also an ex-Follies girl. We swiftly learn that both marriages are empty failures. Younger versions of the foursome sing, dance and mime their yesteryear courtship rituals. Sally has always worshipped Ben, but we see him making a drunken pass at another old flame (Yvonne de Carlo). Buddy rather brutally tells Sally that he has a girl in Dallas who is everything to him that Sally is not. Phyllis is essentially the married widow of the philandering...
...since the Laotian operation began, well before midmorning. At the heavily sandbagged T.O.C. of the 4th Battalion, 77th Field Artillery, 101st Airborne Division, blond, mustachioed Warrant Officer Fred Hayden, 27, set down his cup of tea and sprinted out onto the oil-soaked pad. Zipped into his brown flame-resistant flight suit, he had already scrambled into the front seat of his Cobra by the time Copilot Ronald Lee Walters, 22, clambered into the rear. Within two minutes the Cobra was bound for Fire Base Ranger on a hilltop eight miles inside Laos, where South Vietnamese troops were trying...
...final tonic, that we should "buy a tract of land somewhere in Amazon . . . and throw in Marines and Seabeas and Air Force . . . invite them all, the Chinks and the Aussies, the Frogs and the Gooks and the Wogs . . . We'll have war games with real bullets and real flame throwers, real hot-wire correspondents on the spot. TV with phone-in audience participation, discotheques, Playooy Clubs, pictures of corpses for pay TV . . . But even that wouldn't do the trick. Our collective cool refuses penetration...
...series, "End of the Brownstone Era or Tower of Babel," is a canvas crowded with the mass shapes of an urban nightmare. Harshly cubist in its leanings, the work centers on a large tower pricking its way from the sludge of sewers into a haze of pollution and demonic flame. This is Bruegel's Tower of Babel with a twentieth century difference. Lichtblau's shapes are coarser, more jagged, and her tower is crowded in by other towering and toppling refuse. In the center of the canvas huddles a family, dark and enclosed in helplessness, surrounded by boxes, perhaps even...