Word: grandeur
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Dates: during 1990-1999
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...starters, if you equate nature with beauty--as Emerson and other transcendentalists tended to--then there is a kind of beauty in the unfolding of technology. It is a process of natural evolution, and may deserve the tribute that Darwin paid to organic evolution: "There is grandeur in this view of life...
...Hollywood these days, a spectacle is what some randy star makes of himself at 3 a.m. on Sunset Boulevard. American movies have lost the love of grandeur, of finding the heroic scale of historical figures. Chen Kaige to the rescue! China's longest-reigning angry young filmmaker has an eye for rapturous compositions on a huge and telling tapestry. His new film mixes DeMille and Dostoyevsky: the cast-of-thousands splendor of a biblical epic and the gnarled psychology of Chen's own Farewell My Concubine. And all in less time than a Stephen King prison drama...
Creationism has no part in the serious curriculum of any serious country. Still, I see no reason why biblical creation could not to be taught in the schools--not as science, of course, but for its mythic grandeur and moral dimensions. If we can assign the Iliad and the Odyssey, we certainly ought to be able to assign Genesis...
...actually orchestrating this? Is Albright is suffering from delusions of grandeur in suggesting that her accepting culpability for this decision would be enough to neutralize abortion-rights proponents? Or is she taking one for the team, sacrificing herself on the altar of the Clinton administration's foreign policy? At this point, it's hard to tell. "It certainly would be convenient for the nonpolitical side of the administration to take the heat for a decision like this," says TIME Washington correspondent Douglas Waller. "The fact that she's a woman doesn't hurt, either." A willingness by the White House...
...than the "sweet, resigned" wife that Melville hardly mentions, belongs to a world in which an intelligent woman's best friends might seem to be Wordsworth and Shakespeare and Keats; her story reads as if one of the Bronte sisters had gone off whaling. Yet for all the literary grandeur, much of the book possesses the reader like an unholy fever. A woman walks through the mist in a wolf-trimmed cloak. A madman cries, "Now we eat our fingernails. Now the spiny stars." Naslund writes with the fearlessness of her protagonist...