Word: griefs
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What Beckmann was, was a painter of history but not one who made pictures filled with public personalities or recognizable events. Primal scenes of degradation, yearning and exile were his specialty, complex reckonings with anxiety and grief. In his lifetime Europe would tear itself apart twice in world wars. And once the Nazis got wind of him, they put 10 of his canvases in their infamous show of "degenerate art" in 1937. The day after it opened, he fled Germany with his wife Quappi, first for Amsterdam, then, after the war, for the U.S., where he died of a heart...
...death of his dog Chester [ESSAY, June 16]. He showed us why dogs truly are man's best friend. I had to put my 15-year-old Samoyed to sleep in May, while still reeling in anguish from the sudden loss of my father in February. Certainly, the grief for my father is much more extensive than for my four-legged best friend Sam, but Krauthammer's column allowed me to acknowledge the devastating loss of my dog as well. My heart grieves for the unconditional love I got from both. NATASHA WIESCHENBERG Bedminster...
...which we sometimes wondered about. That doesn't mean Hillary the legal gladiator doesn't take the opportunity to set the record straight on what she knew (nothing) and when she knew it (not until Bill's public admission). But she shrouds that crucial point in a show of grief, describing how she gulped for air and cried and felt the universal female emotion of wanting to wring her husband's neck. There's a couple million votes right there. Martha just needs to don a hairshirt under her perfect Oxford blouse, confess to misjudgments...
...After [Saturday’s] fiasco—we took a lot of grief from their fans—I thought the guys really wanted to win,” Walsh said...
...with them: handshakes - even, I blush to say, hugs - for the triumphant pair." Between that "I blush to say, hugs" and our own age of overemoting, lip-chewing Presidents and Prime Ministers, of nations weeping at the death of a princess or a Kennedy, of private joy and grief turned into public spectacle, there is a yawning gap not just of time but of sensibility...