Word: henry
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Dates: during 1960-1969
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...striped pants, today's diplomat wears three-button business suits. Instead of scintillating soirees, he attends paralyzing parties where his innards are assailed by "searing sauces and alcoholic depth bombs." Many is the career man, says Villard, who echoes the plaint of the late French diplomat Jules Henri after a ten-year tour in Washington: "I drank, God help my digestion, 35,000 cocktails in line of duty...
...Unexpected and decisive strokes-named for Comte de Jarnac, who quickly disposed of an opponent in a 1547 duel before France's King Henri...
...trouble with this business is that everybody runs after the same material." With that complaint, Henri Nannen, editor of the German magazine Der Stern, summed up the life story of the most widely circulated of all German publications: the illustrated weeklies. The illustrateds have been snapping and snarling at one another ever since they appeared on newsstands after World War II. They fake stories, trick each other out of pictures, keep plenty of lawyers busy enjoining a competitor's publication at the slightest excuse. In their early days, they tried to outdo each other with atrocity stories about Hitler...
...Stern and Italo Svevo's The Confessions of Zeno, is currently reading or rereading Coriolanus, Anthony Powell, Stendhal, Hart Crane and T. S. Eliot. His schedule is modest compared with the ten-foot shelf that French Critic Claude Roy claims to have taken on his vacation: all of Henry James, Proust, Chekhov and Henri Michaux; three volumes of Sartre's Situations; Isaac Deutscher's Trotsky, in three volumes; four F. Scott Fitzgerald novels and two by Hemingway; six art books; Nan Hoa Tchen King by Tchouang Tzeu; Leopardi's Zibaldone; and Alice in Wonderland...
...Maritime Alps. Each day, he sorties from the garden of his white-walled studio house, Les Collines (The Hills), past the orange trees whose fruits lie rotting on the ground, along lines of spear-like cypresses and sun-baked terraces exploding with olive trees, down to Avenue Henri Matisse, then cuts off to rocky, flower-lined paths unknown to tourists. After an hour, he re-emerges, sweat pearling on his pale forehead, but refreshed and ready for work...