Word: possessives
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...quickly and completely transformed by love as mine was." Yet his only visible passion is self-absorption. He cannot even muster much interest in Alex Mercer, "my closest friend there in Memphis." He admits several times his inability to remember just how many children Alex and his wife possess...
Owning a pro-football franchise is a dream that seems to possess every high- rolling American businessman who ever scored a touchdown in high school or wishes he had. The rewards are not limited to locker-room privileges and the honor of being addressed as "Mr." by an All-Pro tackle. Most N.F.L. stadiums are filled at kickoff time, and last year the owners of the 28 franchises divvied up some $1.2 billion in TV contracts. Understandably, the N.F.L. barons have been loath to share the spoils. More teams mean smaller slices of the TV pie. Businessmen who want...
...Jeeter, and a lad who "could not ever rise much above cipherdom." The author, of course, elaborates: "He was not blatantly stupid or outright idiotic. There was not anything blatant or outright about him, not anything at all. He mostly simply was not." What Benton does possess, it turns out, is a taste for armed robbery and a lecherous hankering after Jane Elizabeth Firesheets, who is willing to overlook his myriad inadequacies for the thrill of sharing a life of crime...
...books, exclaimed one French critic, "possess all the passionate excess of Rabelais' Gargantua, the verbal virtuosity of a Joyce, the demonic cruelty of Celine's best work." Mon dieu, who is this born-again Shakespeare? Charles Bukowski. You know, the 64-year-old Los Angeles-based laureate of American lowlife whose Henry Miller-ish paeans to booze and broads (Love Is a Dog for Hell, Notes of a Dirty Old Man) typically sell only around 5,000 copies in the U.S. In France, more than 100,000 copies of the Boho's short and tall stories have left the shelves...
...inner conflict that had tormented me in Europe. I painted as naturally as I breathed, spoke or perspired. My style was born as children are born, in a moment . . . after a torturous pregnancy of 35 years." His idea of public art, though secular and materialist, turned out to possess an immense sacerdotal gravity: it could stand in for religious icons. Even a relatively small easel painting like Flower Day, 1925, is consciously hieratic in its symmetry, the stillness of its squat figures, the blazing epiphanic color and the clear identification of the Indian flower bearer, bowed under his angelic load...