Word: sweets
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Dates: during 1980-1989
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...some of his fellow diplomats at United Nations headquarters in New York City, there is a sweet irony in the fact that newly named Secretary-General Javier Pérez de Cuéllar, 62, is acting as the intermediary who is seeking a compromise between London and Buenos Aires over the Falklands crisis. The tall, white-haired Peruvian is himself a compromise choice for a job that many doubted he could fill. When China consistently vetoed an unprecedented third term as Secretary-General for Kurt Waldheim and the U.S. would not accept Tanzanian Foreign Minister Salim Ahmed Salim...
...Weinberger, the great David Lloyd. The Taxi characters were so much like us, and so good at it. The Sunshine Cab Co. was a place to work in that became a place to live in. And your co-workers became your friends: Alex the off-duty rabbi, and sweet dim Tony, and Latka the gentle schizoid. And Reverend Jim, phoning in his blissed-out wisdom from Planet X. And Elaine, the only woman, who desperately wanted to be somewhere else but couldn't leave the place she knew as home...
DIED. William Primrose, 77, world's foremost viola virtuoso whose sweet, pure tone and musicianship raised the viola to the rank of the violin and cello as a solo instrument; in Provo, Utah. The Glasgow-born Primrose was a violin prodigy before he switched to the larger viola, with which he felt "a sense of oneness that I never felt when playing the violin." A world-touring solo recitalist, he settled in the U.S. in 1937 and became first viola of the NBC Symphony under Arturo Toscanini. Later known for his performances of chamber music, he also worked with...
...thing any more. Once we could indulge ourselves. No more. We will find some substitute, a methadone to ease of the habit. We will take up a surrogate for war-a sport, perhaps: planetary killer golf, or perpetual Olympics. We will meditate, to keep our tempers, and chant a sweet Quaker om. We will sublimate the black bats of our rages into butterflies...
...Ralph Waldo Emerson's is sometimes like that: the mind held at an unexpected angle ... a sudden burst of lovely blue light. It is not a transcendental illumination, exactly. Transcendentalism was a short-lived American moonshine. Emerson's light is brighter. It glows with an eerily sweet intelligence and morning energy. Emerson's sentences make a moral flute music-prose as a form of awakening. They move in a dance of sensual abstractions, small miracles of rhetoric. He had no genius for massive literary architecture; he dealt in the lustrous fragments of his essays, in a succession...