Word: prometheanism
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Because it forbids such professional monkeyshines as sadistic holds and Promethean agonies, intercollegiate wrestling is generally considered about as dull as sport can get. Not so in the little town of Bethlehem, Pa., home of wrestling conscious Lehigh, where the great grunt-&-groan is taken as seriously as football. Last week 800 Bethlehemites-town & gown alike-trekked 120 miles to New Haven, Conn, to see Lehigh's wrestlers compete in the Eastern Intercollegiate Championships...
...race had been won, the weapon had been used by those on whom civilization could best hope to depend; but the demonstration of power against living creatures instead of dead matter created a bottomless wound in the living conscience of the race. The rational mind had won the most Promethean of its conquests over nature, and had put into the hands of common man the fire and force of the sun itself...
...workman, fled from the inhumanities of a Victorian factory. One (Frederick Valk), a Viennese physician who prediscovered anesthesia, fled from the bigotries of the clergy and of his own profession. All, as the moved journalist hears them out, rebuke themselves and him for despair against whatever odds. The despairing promethean, they assure him, takes nothing of value to his living grave; others-a Darwin, a Pasteur, a Marx, a Nightingale-persist and by slow stages liberate the reluctant world. By morning and story's end, the journalist has recovered his soul, his hope, his manhood...
...Upton Sinclair called him "the playboy of the social revolution." To sympathetic Biographer Granville Hicks. Reed's life is an ennobling example of how revolutionaries are made. Unbiased readers of John Reed will feel that Sinclair's judgment hits nearest the mark, but that Reed was a Promethean playboy and what he played with was fire...
...monarchy, the grand manner was reserved for such uncommon themes as the death of kings, paradise lost or the celestial city found. Mass education has changed all that. Prizefighters, prostitutes, plain people of all kinds are the modern tragic heroes, and modern authors write about them in Promethean language. Time was when farmers figured in literature only as comic oafs or sullen clodhoppers, but Now in November pipes a more stately pastoral. Written with a slightly self-conscious sonority, this story of a Missouri farm reads like a poeticized almanac with a tragic ending...