Word: stamps
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...many films it relaxed into the self-depreciating smile of a woman who can't believe people when they say she's gorgeous - someone for whom every conquest is a new surprise. Whether her film characters had an unapproachable (and thus enticing) air or bore the unspoiled stamp of the dream girl next door, she stirred romantic interest in her movie men. From the start they'd be considering strategies to thaw her out, measure up, muss...
...always a little sad to see a true American pastime dying, to know that future generations will not be able to enjoy the simple pleasures that brought so much joy to their forebears' lives. Remember stamp-collecting? Coin-collecting? So it's with a slightly heavy heart that we announce the precarious plight of the national sport of Picking on Ben Affleck...
...difficult not to speculate about a book when its title is “The Zookeeper’s Wife.” Such a stamp holds out a million possibilities: a zesty and comical “Life of Pi”-type novel, a steamy romance, or, taking into account its setting in Nazi-occupied Poland, a war story as heart-wrenchingly quirky as Roberto Benigni’s film “Life is Beautiful.” Yet Diane Ackerman’s new book doesn’t fit into any single genre. Rather, Ackerman?...
...faithful - of all creeds and political affiliations - barraged the White House last week, imploring the President to reconsider his veto threat. Our efforts did not bear fruit. But I wonder if, before he put his veto stamp on that legislation, the President thought back to that little meeting in a Baptist Sunday school classroom, not far from where he grew up. I wonder if he remembered that day, what we talked about, what was in his heart, and how much hope there was in the room. If he knows his Bible, the President should remember that Jesus said to suffer...
...yeah, he was a member of the Waffen SS. But after sharing my hunger, he was so human to me that, if he were before me, I would have readily forgiven him. This intensely self-critical, self-reflective stranger who is so beleaguered by shame, this art stamp collector, stonemason, fledgling artist, eventual writer, master dancer, lover, husband...Günter Grass became me, his mouth rubberbanded shut. I was him, playing dice with a religious Bavarian, discussing the future. Strange, isn’t it, the power of a good book...