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Remember the image of the book as an object, as a welding of board, paper, string, glue and ink; remember the pyramids of the Egyptians, built from sand, stone and mortar: They were built to ward off time. Each individual block, though carved to protect a pharoah, was a move by man to withstand wind, water, night and other men. Each book we print adds to the monolith of similar blocks we preserve, that we stack in piles, climb on top of, burn out of fear...

Author: By Spencer S. Hsu, | Title: On Books, Respect, And Time | 2/27/1988 | See Source »

...greatest luxury of retirement is returning to work -- on their own terms. Robert Pamplin, 76, former head of the Georgia-Pacific Corp., prudently began plotting his corporate afterlife ten years before he reached his company's mandatory retirement age. In 1976, on his 65th birthday, he bought a small sand-and- gravel company in Portland, Ore. Ten years and two other acquisitions later, he oversees a small empire with revenues of $420 million. Pamplin too saw his postretirement course as a sort of duty. "God has given us certain talents," he says. "And he gave them...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: Living: Grays on The Go | 2/22/1988 | See Source »

Lacroix has a boutique on the street level of his headquarters but, until his ready-to-wear line appears, no clothes to put in it. Instead he has filled the display window with sand and placed some talismans: bamboo glasses, Camargue grass, a mighty lobster (cooked) and other, more esoteric forms of sea life. When he returned to the salon last Thursday with his Golden Thimble -- all the more precious because his first one is locked away at Patou -- he found that his staff had laid an improvised red carpet, and he responded with a short champagne reception. The staff...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: Living: Voila! It's Fun a Lacroix | 2/8/1988 | See Source »

...photos in the travel brochure promise exotic scenes of rare beauty: coarse sand beaches curve seamlessly toward the horizon; delicate, silk-draped women smile alluringly. But upon landing at an eerily empty Tan Son Nhut airport, there is no escaping the stark reminders of conflicts past: the olive-drab Chinook helicopters, C-130s and C-47s lie cheek by cowl off the tarmac. This is no Club Med. This, ladies and gentlemen, is the Socialist Republic of Viet Nam, a recent and tentative entrant in the lucrative global sweepstakes known as the tourist industry...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: Living: Welcome Back to Viet Nam | 1/18/1988 | See Source »

...likes of Charles de Gaulle, Madame Ngo Dinh Nhu and even the Emperor, Bao Dai himself. There is nothing imperial about the hostelry today, but the mosquito netting hanging from the massive teak bed is skillfully patched and blessedly intact. A mile away horses graze near a sand trap on the golf course Americans designed and built for R. and R. sojourns...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: Living: Welcome Back to Viet Nam | 1/18/1988 | See Source »

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