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...pieces in Off Center. The McCall's article on the Moonies, for instance, opens with a paragraph as purple and swollen as a bad bruise. Sometimes Harrison's inspired chat turns to chaff--she goes completely gaga over Dick Cavett in a profile piece that is all flutter and giggles, just like the show. Occasionally we get the feeling that she is using words and criticisms for the sheer joy of being liberated, free to say what she wants...

Author: By F. MARK Muro, | Title: A Predator in Prose | 9/25/1980 | See Source »

...your people,/ Millions of us greet you/ On this your birthday/ Mother of our Queen." This defiantly wooden psalming was merely average Betjeman. Years ago, the death of King George V inspired the young Betjeman to a soaring metaphysical conception: "Spirits of well-shot woodcock, partridge, snipe/ Flutter and bear him up the Norfolk sky." Over the years, Sir John's verses have aroused almost demented indignation, but the laureate amiably dismisses his critics as "silly asses who don't understand poetry." He is partly right. Most of it, almost by some subconscious design, would make Hallmark cards...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: Time Essay: America Needs a Poet Laureate, Maybe | 8/25/1980 | See Source »

...Kwangju's 800,000 citizens were awakened by the screech of tank treads and the flutter of helicopters flying in assault formations over the city's roofs. Paratroopers armed with machine guns, stun grenades and handguns stormed rebel strongholds in the provincial government offices, the tourist hotel, the local radio station and the city park. The rebels fought back with carbines, pistols and M16 rifles they had seized from government arsenals. But the civilian youths were scarcely a match for the crack airborne troops. In less than two hours the soldiers had secured Kwangju. As the sun rose...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: SOUTH KOREA: Ten Days That Shook Kwangju | 6/9/1980 | See Source »

...play's end, it nestles out of sight, casting an appropriate bleakness over a wet and shivering audience. The sky matches Beckett's play in its inability to illumine. The stage slipped between Mather House's cement blocks stands bare of even the smallest of miracles. No leaves flutter on the lone tree that cowers behind a tiny desert. A flute echoes as the only sign of regeneration when the moon disappears...

Author: By James L. Cott, | Title: L' Absurdite, C'est Moi | 5/1/1980 | See Source »

Close your eyes and slip back in time. It's the high school homecoming game. You are 16, the band is grinding out an off-key school fight song, the cheerleaders' pom-poms flutter in the breeze...

Author: By Susan C. Faludi, | Title: V--I--C--T--O--R--Y | 10/15/1979 | See Source »

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