Word: lyricizing
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While the Departments of Government and History deluge the student with extraordinarily generous offerings at ten, eleven, and twelve, the other departments quietly wend their scholarly way. German lyric poetry (Germ. 195), Old French language and literature (French 101a), and twentieth century Italian literature are subsumed in a way, under Linguistics 120, "Introduction to Comparative and Historical Linguistics," open without prerequisites to non-concentrators...
Wild and exotic music came from that keyboard: scenes of massacre and battle and hell. There were (see color) the funereal chords of his Hamlets, the lyric melancholy of some of his portraits, the emotional rhythms of his still lifes. History has cast Delacroix in the role of the great romanticist pitted against Ingres, France's great classicist. Yet for all his passion, he was a man of intellect who never surrendered to unbridled emotion. "Reason must control all our infirmities," he said...
...show is about extrasensory perception, but the trouble is clear to any one with ordinary perception: Lerner has been dragging his feet. When he works, the poor man works hard, to be sure. He sometimes stays up all night to get a single line for a lyric. He has spent two weeks on one couplet. It can take him months to write the words to an entire song. Then he hands it to Rodgers-who demoralizingly creates a finished tune in 20 minutes...
...work. Poet Marianne Moore laments that she "never knew anyone who had a passion for words who had as much difficulty in saying things as I do." Boris Pasternak (described as looking "at the same time like an Arab and his horse") believes it is "no longer possible for lyric poetry to express the immensity of our experience. Life has grown too cumbersome, too complicated." Venerable Ezra Pound, 77, "stuck" and unable to finish his epic Cantos, says, "The question is. am I dead?" Katherine Anne Porter gloomily concludes, "Misunderstanding and separation are the natural conditions...
...this production, the storm rises and falls, and the whole becomes a sort of huge stichomythic dialogue between Lear and Nature rather than a ludicrous replica of a lyric tenor trying to sing over an unyielding Wagnerian fortissimo. Yet further experimentation with these scenes can probably make them still better...