Word: jean-paul
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Life Is Death. Mortal man's proud answers to Fosca are put in his mouth by France's Jean-Paul Sartre: Existentialist Simone de Beauvoir is merely the medium. All good existentialists believe that when they die, they will die altogether: but they argue that precisely because man has no God to look after him, no Heaven to look forward to and no way of escaping death, he is so much the greater, because his hope and courage light the absurd void to which he is condemned. Mortal man, in fact, is forever alive, whereas immortal Count Fosca...
...faraway days when he did not like Reds, French Existentialist Author Jean-Paul Sartre ground out a middling anti-Communist tract in the form of a play called Dirty Hands. Since then, Sartre has changed camps, is now a faithful member in good standing of a Communist braintrust known as the World Peace Council. Last week Turncoat Sartre cried havoc because Dirty Hands was presented at Vienna's Volkstheater. He threatened to sue to keep the curtain from rising, but the play opened as scheduled, naturally proved to be a smash hit, was climaxed by a 30-minute ovation...
Some observers claim that the disfigurement grew out of a perverse sense of beauty. Others offered an ingenious reverse explanation: originally, the duckbilled women had merely tried to make themselves unattractive to marauding Arab slave raiders who were seeking likely harem material. Both explanations are dismissed by French Sociologist Jean-Paul Lebeuf, a longtime expert on African ethnology and prehistory, who believes he has found the real clue in the lore of the upcountry Fali and Sara tribes...
...marched into an all-male club and taken over a deep chair by the window. She cannot be thrown out because 1) she is a first-rate expounder of the teachings of one of the club's most celebrated current philosophers (and her great and good friend), Existentialist Jean-Paul Sartre, and 2) she can talk most of the other members under the intellectual table...
Much of this view of life and death is as old as the Stoics and as new as the Existentialists. Where Jean Giono differs from both Marcus Aurelius and Jean-Paul Sartre is in his addiction to verbal color and sensuous imagery. The Horseman on the Roof is an orgy of symbolic corpses, stinks, carrion crows and flesh-eating nightingales, interspersed with involved philosophical breedings and brisked up with epigrams ("Cavalrymen like women to scream"; "I'm afraid of grocers when they have guns"). But. like most contemporary philosophical novelists, Giono makes no real effort to be clear...