Word: graved
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Dates: during 1970-1979
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...open carriage to the House of Burgesses, and like thousands of tourists before him, fed the ducks on the grounds of the Williamsburg Inn. He also found time to smooth over a troublesome incident. He dispatched a Japanese official to nearby Norfolk to lay a wreath on the grave of General Douglas MacArthur, the commander whose forces had defeated Japan but who had allowed Hirohito to keep his title. The gesture was made to appease MacArthur's widow, who had said she was "very unhappy" that Hirohito's schedule would not permit him to visit the grave...
...steep slope to the burial place every day last week. Women left flowers, young peasants took photographs, priests led small groups in prayer. None of the 100 policemen occupying the town-"the Spanish," residents called them-dared remove the red, white and green Basque flag that covered the rocky grave...
...radical groups are so small that it would be a grave mistake to take them too seriously. Some of them are hardly more than a dozen or two people with a catchy name and a talent for publicity. Their methods are crude. They are the sort of people that Karl Marx would have contemptuously dismissed as senseless anarchists. Many California radicals follow the teachings of Mao, Che Guevara, French Revolutionary Regis Debray and Carlos Marighella, the Brazilian terrorist tactician. Marighella advocates violence as a way to encourage government authorities to overreact. He theorizes that a government will inevitably impose harshly...
THERE IS a quality to the voice on this record--the voice of Sylvia Plath reading her own poetry--that can only be described as frightening. It is not just the eerieness of hearing a voice from beyond the grave, of listening to a woman expose her obsession with the subject of death three months before she takes her own life. The really scary, chilling thing about this voice is its profound bitterness--a sort of challenge to all comers that commands sympathy at the same time that it defies it, that attracts as it repels, that bores directly...
...there no hope? Having taken the reader from the cradle, Donleavy looks forward in a mini-essay on "Dying" to what comes after the grave. Alas, more of the same. As he imagines a rude, rude walk through "about twenty millenniums," Donleavy suggests: "This could be, for those of you who were expecting an afterlife of courtesy, equality and contentment, a good time to break down and cry." Or bare your teeth, throw back your head and laugh like the old Ginger Man. Melvin Maddocks