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...others, but it possessed marvelous powers of recuperation. When the world thunked him hard, as it did that night in West Virginia when he lost the critical presidential primary to John Kennedy, he was an open wound for a few minutes. But then he gathered himself up in that moth-eaten room of the old Ruffner Hotel, went over and fixed himself a salami sandwich from the table of things he had personally bought for the victory celebration. He began right then to climb out of defeat back to his sunny pinnacle, a journey that he would repeat and repeat...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: THE PRESIDENCY by HUGH SIDEY: Humphrey: What a Lucky Guy, What a Life | 1/23/1978 | See Source »

There is a moment in Holy the Firm when Annie Dillard watches a candle flame consume a golden female moth. The moth's abdomen catches in the wet wax and her wings "ignited like tissue paper, enlarging the circle of light in the clearing." Her antennae crackle, her legs disappear and her body is reduced to a glowing shell. "And then," relates Dillard, "this moth-essence, this spectacular skeleton, began to act as a wick ... She burned for two hours, until I blew...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: Books: Godspells | 10/10/1977 | See Source »

...moth and the flame is an old device that Dillard uses in a fresh manner...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: Books: Godspells | 10/10/1977 | See Source »

...chief literary racket, and he is wonderful at it. His travel books arrive like long letters from a civilized and very funny friend- the prose as luminous as the Mediterranean air he loves. One evening in Sicily, he could look from his hotel balcony and "see the distant moth-soft dazzle of the temples'" at Agrigento. In a little Sicilian town called Chaos, the birthplace of Pirandello, Durrell watched sunlight "worthy of a nervous breakdown by Turner." When a local doctor was summoned to treat a tourist in Durrell's party, "he had a singular sort of expression...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: Books: Bus Stops | 8/29/1977 | See Source »

...well-shaped or the merely well-heeled-and just about anyone else who yearns to break out of 9-to-5 humdrum into a space-age world of mesmeric lighting, Neronian dècor and, of course, music, music, music. They are the new breed of discothèque, moth-gathering hotpots of the urban night. Discomania is the latest passion of faddish, fickle American city dwellers, turning daytime Jekylls and Jacquelines into nocturnal and nonma-levolent Hydes and Heidis gyrating through smoke and decibels in a Cinderella world of self-stardom...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: Living: Hotpots of the Urban Night | 6/27/1977 | See Source »

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