Word: ragingly
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...Wright knew that he must fight against being consumed by rage. He began on the very Sunday after the horror, asking his fellow congregants in church for support. The stakes, he realized, were high. First, there was his three-year-old son Zane. "When my wife was dying, she said, 'I love you, and take care of Zane.' Well, if I lose it, then I can't take care of him." And then there was the matter of his immortal soul. "If you let the hate and anger build in you, that's a very strong sin," he says softly...
...silent and confused, she is direct and focused. This is all the more remarkable since, as she calmly informs Cardis, last October she underwent surgery for breast cancer. In the days before her forgiveness sessions, such a setback would have sent her into a vortex of helpless rage, and she admits, "At first I wanted to blame someone." That passed, however. The cancer has apparently not spread, and she values her new composure. "I can buy another breast," she explains. "I can't buy another life...
Then one night in 1992, Gayle wrote her daughter's killer a letter. "It just flowed," she says. She told him she forgave him and was willing to visit him. "The instant the letter was in the mailbox, all the anger, all the rage, all the lust for revenge disappeared," she says...
...sate prurient tastes, two books revisit the events. Orth, a writer for Vanity Fair, unloads her notebooks indiscriminately, providing an overdetailed, pedestrian chronicle. Cunanan, a gregarious, wickedly clever mythomaniac and petty thief, disported himself in the kinky gay netherworld of alcohol, drugs, prostitution and sadomasochism. In a jealous rage he murdered two former lovers and an elderly man who may have been a sometime lover, then a stranger whose pickup truck he stole, and finally Versace, a homosexual whose connection to Cunanan, if any, has still not been explained. The manhunt--badly bungled, says Orth--ended after about 11 weeks...
...managed to deliver intensely layered performances that are devoid of the promiscuous emoting and, seemingly, of the cerebral prep work that can make more experienced actors' work--Al Pacino's in the '90s, say--less than what it should be. As Tony, Gandolfini is masterly at conveying the simmering rage beneath his character's humanity. He brings all the right sweaty fidgetiness to a man whose life demands that he take his daughter to a college interview and kill a Mob informant in the same afternoon...