Word: sadnesses
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Dates: during 1960-1969
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...field, he shares his tent with three officers and four enlisted men. They mess together around a campfire, sing sad Laotian songs or dance the graceful lamvong, while Kong Le, holding two pet hamsters in his lap, looks on. His possessions are few: a desk, a footlocker, a transistor radio (gift from the U.S. ambassador), and five locked briefcases, which he keeps under his bunk. Occasionally he unlocks one to take out not confidential papers but a handkerchief and a pair of socks, and then carefully relocks...
...mirror one day, his wife saw a strange face, that of a very young girl-saintly, fair, rather sad. From his wife's description, Constantino knew instantly who it was: his own beloved sister Izildinha, who had died back home in 1911 at the age of 13. Izildinha, rumor had it, was so devout that Jesus once visited her. Again and again, Senhora Ribeiro's visions returned, and as Izildinha's fame spread, so did Constantino's business...
...populous diocese. To the surprise of the city, the quiet Vatican diplomat became a pastoral whirlwind. He visited Milan's Communist districts, calmly asked for workers' suggestions as to where they would like their new church built. Greeted with jeers and catcalls, he would advance with a sad smile on his pale face, hand half outstretched. Again and again, even lifelong Communists would find themselves kneeling to kiss the episcopal ring. He befriended Milan's business community, yet he was also known as "the workers' archbishop." On his visits to factories, mines and office buildings...
...small whitewashed house, surrounded by tiny birch and fir trees, looks as if it might belong to a mousy little spinster who would never do anything that would cause talk among the neighbors. But the house on the outskirts of Brussels belongs to Paul Delvaux, a grey-maned, sad-faced man of 65 who, next to René Magritte, is Belgium's top surrealist and can sometimes be seen standing in his studio wearing blue jeans and sandals, slowly filling a huge canvas with vacant-eyed female nudes. Against one wall stands a row of skulls, and near them...
...psychoanalyst could obviously find all sorts of sexual obsessions in Delvaux's work. In one canvas, a female nude walks through a garden past a group of fully clothed scholars, and, like the sad little figure in the ads entitled "In Philadelphia nearly everybody reads the Bulletin," is wholly ignored. And Delvaux's trains could be a Freudian symbol for the male sex drive or an occult reference to death. But Delvaux ignores all that sort of speculation. He paints trains, he says, probably because they remind him of happy trips he took during his childhood...