Word: mad
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Dates: during 1950-1959
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...greatest achievement, I believe, is his latest published long poem, The Trojan Horse. In it, he has overcome his inability to write on current political threats without beclouding his work with fiery fist-shaking. Following the ancient tragedy, he depicts the horse as a menace, which only a mad girl and Helen realize. The people, confused by the symbol for which it represents, denounce the two women and admit the horse to Troy. MacLeish is one of few poets who has expressed a modern dilemma with such vitality, deftness, and fearlessness. If the task of poetry is to create...
...corps invariably refer to him as a "real, old-fashioned Virginia gentleman." The phrase is trite but true-it is easy to visualize him in the grey of the Confederacy. With his quiet, tidewater accent, he has little of the flamboyancy of such barnacled Marines as Holland ("Howlin' Mad") Smith, Lewis B. ("Chesty") Puller, and Graves ("The Big E") Erskine...
Queen Victoria called it a "mad, wicked folly," and was not amused. But male observers, then and later, have been both amused and convinced. The latest, Oliver Jensen, lets the camera make his sharpest comment for him. His picture history, The Revolt of American Women, chronicles more than half a century of rapid change which carried the female of the U.S. species "from bloomers to Bikini-from feminism to Freud." In text and captions, Author Jensen shines up an old masculine brief to new brightness, i.e., that the fight for equality began as a war between the sexes and ended...
With a completely exhausted crew and two sick children, Davis decided to head to head for Rapa, a South Sea Island. The twenty-fifth day out, the approached the tiny island, and in a letter to friends, Mrs. Davis said they "nearly went mad. Our first reaction was to wash ourselves, the first bath in 26 days. We drank a toast to the destruction of the Roaring 40's, then promptly collapsed with the sudden reaction to the terrors we had been through...
...morning the hunters fled with their captive. All at once, at the edge of a forest, "I stood beside a dark grey rock, twelve feet high." It was the mother. "Her eyes were uncanny, fixed and empty." Oberjohann judged that she "had actually been driven mad by her boundless sorrow at losing her child. I prodded her trunk lightly with my bamboo staff." Dully, she moved away. Next night she destroyed a native village, but Oberjohann never saw her again...