Word: latelies
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Dates: during 1960-1969
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...perhaps you were one of those who, bravely, went on with the work to be done, as usual, knowing full well the weighty perils you faced but taking them in your stride, like a man, with a stiff upper lip, as you munched buttered toast in the late morning, surrounded by friendly fellows in the warmth of the drawing room of your favorite club...
...woman named Gladys Roberts, who was herself from Alabama, was in charge of the Wallace Girls. She looked something like the late Mrs. Lurleen Wallace; that is to say, she was trim, pretty, and hid a faint smile. Gladys Roberts was wearing a styrofoam boater with Wallace stickers pasted on it, a red, white, and blue-striped blazer, a white blouse, a navy blue skirt, stockings, and loafers. She also carried a cardboard painter's bucket...
...with violence? This is a war we're in, a battle against crime. We have to resort to violence to protect ourselves against evil." As if to underscore his point, Tracy continued merrily on his violent way. Having vaporized Intro in the Caribbean, he is asked by a late arrival where the enemy is. As the fumes rise from the placid waters, Tracy replies: "You're breathing him." "Beautiful afternoon," sighs the detective. "Sure is," agrees his sidekick...
...gondolas by singing the Internationale or scuffled desultorily with police in the Piazza San Marco. The commissioner of the Swedish pavilion backed them up, explaining that the 1,000 police swarming about the grounds created "a spiritual climate in which we could not present works." The Russian exhibit arrived late. Three of the four artists in the French pavilion closed their exhibits. So did 20 of the 23 Italians, and artists in the Danish and Yugoslav pavilions. A group of 97 artists and critics demanded the resignation of the Biennale's organizer, Professor Gian-Alberto dell' Acqua...
Tormented Transit. Typically, it all started with notes that Lowry, an inveterate journal keeper, took during a trip to Mexico in late 1945 and early 1946. "By God, we have a novel here!" Lowry cried on first rereading them. Editor Day more accurately describes Dark as the Grave Wherein My Friend Is Laid as "a notebook on its way to becoming a novel." Yet this fragmented, compulsively self-centered, brilliant half book does not at all misrepresent its author. For Lowry was less a novelist than, in Day's words, "a diarist, compulsive notetaker, poet manqué, alcoholic, philosophizing...