Word: tableclothed
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...years that he served as Secretary-General, Hammarskjöld drove himself mercilessly to become "pure of heart" in the service of others: "On a really clean tablecloth, the smallest speck of dirt annoys the eye. At high altitudes, a moment's self-indulgence may mean death." Yet he remained ever and exquisitely aware of the ambiguities of even the best-intentioned human behavior and never became self-righteous about his own projects: "The 'great' commitment all too easily obscures the 'little' one. But without the humility and warmth which you have to develop...
...surrealistic, exasperating, frequently incomprehensible but often utterly delightful." A lunch with the cover subject, General Kong Le, in his headquarters village of Vang Vieng was a study in the country's need as well as its plenty. It was served on a table covered by a red checked tablecloth "with so many holes in it that it must have been riddled by a shotgun." But no one needed to go away hungry from the meal-bamboo sprouts, fish, large bowls of glutinous rice, tiny cubes of dried smoked water buffalo, eggs fried with garlic, cucumbers, oranges and pineapple. After...
...students him on, Henry gobbled up everything in sight but the tablecloth. With five minutes to go, the cheering section began to yell, "Comes as, John, you're making the stretch run now!" At this point Henry announced, "I've had the course," and gurgling noises omitted from his threat. Members of the Boston photographic corps hovered over him to get the picture of the day, but Henry made it to the mean's room is time...
...colors seems miraculous. Foliage flutters before the eye like scurrying butterflies. An overcoat lying on a chair takes on the bulk and presence of its wearer. A still life of skulls-piled more like strange fruit than memento mori-melts their contours into the curves of a parti-colored tablecloth in a haunting arabesque...
...black and white emphasized by black flats with white crepe hangings and a checkered tablecloth, was one of austere, Satanic simplicity. The table and chairs were the only furniture. You expected the celebration of a Black Mass with sacramental absinthe on this Greenwich Village esplanade, but the dreamlike events unrolled rather harmlessly: a sportively dressed Pierrot appeared with his lovely Columbine. They talked dreamily, wittily, Pierrot, in the best tradition of talkers, saw himself as an artist, as a socialist who "loves mankind but hates human beings," as a critic who can really accept nothing. But we soon find that...