Word: poets
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...depressed, suicidal homosexual who also happens to be the self-declared number one Proust scholar in the U.S. At first I figured this was a completely random association; the writers could have just as easily picked Balzac or John Donne or some other semi-obscure, all-but-forgotten philoso-poet. But maybe these arbitrary snippets of Proust in current popular culture amount to something. In Search of Lost Time is six volumes long and rife with allusions and metaphors, so easy to apply Proust to just about anything. Wondering why that delicious cookie tastes so good? Proust has you covered...
...Lenny Bruce is a menace. He uses dirty words for shock value. He's a junkie who wants to pollute civilized conversation. He's gone too far." "He just died." "Oh. What I meant was, he was a poet and a prophet...
When Robert Louis Stevenson set off from Le Monestier in the Upper Loire for France's mountainous Cévennes region in 1878, the Scottish poet and novelist spent much of his 220-km walk cursing and goading Modestine, the recalcitrant "she-ass" he'd hired to carry his load. But by the time he reached St. Jean du Gard 12 days later, he'd had a change of heart about his long-eared companion, and the encounters they shared inspired[an error occurred while processing this directive] his memorable account, Travels with a Donkey in the Cévennes...
...Springvale homestead, an hour's drive from Halls Creek, was the home of legendary cattleman and bush poet Tom Quilty. Until the 1886 gold rush, the station was one of this region's few inhabited places. Historian Geoffrey Blainey described men with gold lust traveling the final 1,000 km from Katherine. "The manager of Spring Vale reported that 'great numbers of men from Queensland have passed by, some of them very undesirable characters, who prefer picking their own beef and horse-flesh,'" he writes in The Rush That Never Ended. "They faked the brands on their stolen horses with...
...parade was cancelled last week. With the war in the north, the police claimed they couldn’t provide the many officers needed to protect the event from religious people who might disrupt it. Jerusalem, my beloved poet Yehuda Amichai once wrote, is a place where even the dead are granted the right to vote...