Word: soundsã
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Youth, especially infancy, was a pervading theme of the show. Images of baby doll faces, toys, and gestating fetuses were projected on a screen behind the band. These simple sights were accompanied by relatively simple sounds??competent drumming and lots of tinkering around with xylophones and such—and I wasn’t exactly moved to a transcendent state of ecstasy. But that’s the point...
When University President Lawrence H. Summers was installed in Tercentenary Theater in October 2001, a choir of Harvard undergraduates sang “America the Beautiful.“ And, as nauseatingly corny as it sounds??and as nauseatingly corny as it was—I cried. (At the time I took great care that my friends standing near me couldn’t see me doing anything so embarrassing, but I guess I’ve rather blown that now.) I didn’t cry for the people who had died in the attacks...
Andrew J. Miller ’04 and Katie A. Giblin ’06 said that they evacuate each time the alarm sounds??but for different reasons...
...witnessed one enormous, surly student attempt the seemingly impossible and surely inadvisable “month of 1,000 beers”—the goal being exactly as it sounds??only to fall 10 drinks short because he undertook his feat in the month of February...
...mind wandered through a haze of despair that afternoon as I half-listened to the vigil on the steps of Memorial Church. All I heard were sounds??the words didn’t matter much. At some point, I realized that President Lawrence H. Summers was speaking. His tone was constant, but his rhythm was broken. Each word, it seemed, struggled to find a breath that could carry it. There was reluctance in his voice, gravity in his stance and humanity in his hesitation. There were no words for that day, and I think he realized...