Word: nap
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Dates: during 1970-1979
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...powers that he assaults seem powerless before him. For roughly 9,999 newsmen out of 10,000, that vision remains forever fantasy, but for Jack Northman Anderson it has all come true. A college dropout with no intellectual pretensions, a relentless square whose biggest indulgences are a Sunday-afternoon nap and a second ice-cream cone for dessert, a clumsy writer who has yet to put together any memorable combination of words, he has nonetheless emerged in the past dozen weeks as the pre-eminent scourge of Washington. Security precautions in many offices are being tightened because no one knows...
...outside, granite within. The girl is stone blind-the result of an equestrian accident. But she is making a wizard adjustment at her uncle's isolated house in Sussex. Then, rather abruptly, things spiral downward. Her boy friend Steve (Norman Eshley) leaves her alone to take an afternoon nap. She awakes to a house full of death. Some bloody maniac has gone crackers with a shotgun, cutting down everyone in the family. But he has accidentally dropped a clue-a bracelet with his name engraved upon the surface. Sarah finds it, but of course she cannot read the evidence...
...morning. I was exhausted, he seemingly as fresh as ever. "I must let you get some sleep," I mumbled. He threw back his head and laughed. "I've already had my sleep. Now I'm going to work." His night's rest had been a cat nap before dinner...
...interested in everything, from the nap of a rabbit's fur or the extra legs on a mutant pig to the theory of human proportion. His graphic work was a sustained paean to the diversity of the world. There was often an edge of apocalyptic menace in the way he perceived it. He wrote a treatise on proportion, but he was shaken by portents, frightened by monsters and preyed on by nightmares?all of which he described and to some degree exorcised by drawing them. But his curiosity remained insatiable, and it drove him to constant journeying...
...worst when I come out of a nap, and I can see with some kind of crystal clarity the existential absurdity of life. You can never do one-millionth of what's available. There's a sense of lassitude and emptiness about it all. And there's a clarity about it, which doesn't last very long, when I think, oh God, it isn't worth it. It's almost like seeing life from a photograph in the planetarium, where the earth is a small thing in all that space...