Word: paines
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Dates: during 1960-1969
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Actually, pain and violence are anathema to the Intentional Community. Says Judith Malina: "We are a terrible lot of moralists. We are trying to live together in peace, not only saying that the U.S. should disarm, but that we should not scream at one another in rehearsals-or if we do it, to understand why." The collective ideal seems to fall between the Group Theater of the '30s and a 19th century Utopian experiment like Brook Farm. Actress Jenny Hecht, daughter of Ben Hecht, puts it this way: "I want to live with people close, in a state...
...heart and thus begin his monster. The spectacle is vivid enough to sicken some audiences, but Alan Brien, drama critic of London's Sunday Telegraph, insists that "the sequence is an eyeopener to those who believe the theater cannot match the cinema in projecting images of violence and pain...
West Berlin is the focal point of more than one cold war. Outside the towering glass-and-metal headquarters of Publisher Axel Springer, burly guards are posted at every door. Loudspeakers have been installed that emit such a high-pitched whine that it will pain the eardrums of would-be invaders. From the East, over the Wall that runs alongside the building? Not at all. From the West. Militant West Berlin students have threatened to break into the plant and smash the printing presses-not to mention the faces of any Springer personnel who get in their way. To which...
...Today's less cruel but still existing repression, says Princeton Historian James Billington, "breeds exasperation and contempt more than terror." But if the Russian is somewhat more open now, he is still burdened by what University of Toronto Sociologist Lewis Feuer calls "socialist pessimism": the feeling that frustration, pain and deprivation are in the nature of things and that nothing can be done about them. This attitude, conditioned by the endless bureaucracy and the regimentation of life, may be partly responsible for Russia's declining birth rate...
...revels now are ended." Which was all I had to say. My mind for the moment stopped, and it was only weeks later, seeing a transcript of what I had said, that I realized I did not in fact know how Prospero began that soliloquy. Not fortune, nor pain, nor yet the fiercest will could have wrung it from me. Only the realization of a youth having passed summoned it forth, which is to say summoned a power that was there but was not being used...