Word: saint
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Pompidou meanwhile has been given the task of leading the U.N.R. in the next French elections for parliament in March of 1967. In preparation, Pompidou has skipped his usual summer with the bikini set at Saint-Tropez this year, is already skimming the country in helicopters, cigarette plastered to his lower lip, campaigning. He has his work cut out for him. Public-opinion surveys show that the Gaullists are still France's leading political party, with some 30% of the voters' support. In parliamentary elections, that could well translate into as few as 150 seats...
...months before he shot himself to death in the summer of 1890, Vincent Van Gogh was in and out of the asylums at Aries and Saint-Rémy. Released, he traveled to Auvers-sur-Oise near Paris and stayed at a café owned by a couple named Ravoux. There he painted a lucid portrait of the couple's 16-year-old daughter before he lapsed into the madness that took his life. Portrait de Mademoiselle Ravoux survived, was bought in 1921 for $20,000, along with two other Van Gogh works, by a sharp-eyed Pennsylvania clergyman...
...little Loire valley town of Saint-Bouize, where the good life consists of lolling in the two local bistros and sipping the cool white wines of Sancerre and Pouilly, Farmer Georges Delair's motorbike accident was a particular tragedy. The day an auto knocked him over the handle bars onto his head, life turned drab indeed for the large, affable man. Pains in his head and neck impaired his work. Even worse, the 33-year-old Delair told the court: "Before, white wine made me gay, joyous and optimistic. Now it gives me terrible headaches, and after...
...because he forged blood, toil, tears and sweat into victory, but because he seemed to embody, like a noble caricature, all the legendary qualities of the English. Not that pugnacity is essential. Americans see Pope John XXIII as a hero because he exuded love and managed to combine the saintly with the jolly. Many Americans would also accord the status of saint-hero to Albert Schweitzer, because they cherish the sentimental picture of the man who gave up the world in order to do good works in a dark corner of the globe. But Schweitzer perhaps lived too long. "Every...
...microphones that are broadcasting their sweet nothings to the laughing crowd in the breast bar. Youngsters scramble up the stairs through the tummy, pop out of the navel, where there is a conveniently placed table on a terrace. "It's one of the nicest things," says Niki de Saint-Phalle. "Spectators can get a good view of the woman and talk with their friends below...