Word: gloomed
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Dates: during 1960-1969
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Longhair Publicity. Joseph McGinniss, columnist of the Philadelphia Inquirer, pursued John Wayne from his "inspirational reading" at the convention to the Poodle Lounge at the Hotel Fontainebleau. In the boozy gloom, Wayne reviewed his speech. "What the hell did I say? I have no idea what the hell I said." Then he remembered a little. "Permissiveness is the biggest problem we have. The people in these colleges and these ghettos and these goddam longhair punks." And it's all the fault of the press, he said. "Nothing is ever any different from how it ever was except all these...
...categorically accepted or rejected. An unsystematic thinker who refers to his essays as "fragments," Cioran (pronounced Cho-ran) presents his arguments in ironic, aphoristic prose (see box). It is rather as if Dostoevsky had written Notes from Underground in the style of Pascal's Pensees. Although his gloom has affinities, with existentialism, Cioran is hard to pigeon hole; his eclectic thought contains echoes of all philosophic history, from the pre-Socratics to the mystics of the Eastern church...
What will you remember about your senior year at Harvard? The gloom of December when the war got worse, when draft calls increased, when your thesis tumbled from your frostbitten fingers like a heavy stone, and the future looked as dead as the icy eyes on a frozen pigeon which lay in the trash, claws outstretched, stiff, scratching the clouds--too cold to even interest the maggots...
Despite the spectacular displays of student rebellion at U.S. campuses this year, the annual convention of Students for a Democratic Society last week assessed its present situation with far more gloom than triumph. "We sniff the air," said one S.D.S. officer, Carl Oglesby, "and there is a trace of the devil's presence that wasn't there last year." Many of the 900 vociferous delegates at Michigan State University seemed to be convinced that the U.S. is in a "prerevolutionary" stage in which the forces of conservatism will use violence to stamp out change. They treated reporters covering...
What will you remember about your senior year at Harvard? The gloom of December when the war got worse, when draft calls increased, when your thesis tumbled from your frostbitten fingers like a heavy stone and the future looked as dead as the icy eyes on a frozen pigeon which lay in the trash claws outstretched, stiff, scratching the clouds--too cold to even interest the maggots...