Word: tells
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Dates: during 1960-1969
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...dear Distraught, characters and plots are pieces, and Our Author cannot deal with pieces. He must present the Life-Stream, the Continuum. But all our feeble intellects can perceive are pieces, so what could He do? I'll tell you what He did--He built for us a blank-white-nothing plain, peopled by two, maybe four-five hollow Kewpie Dolls. Very warm dolls, but hollow. Scattered on the white plain are hundreds of little tags, some of them hard to make out, but all right there. One will...
...society. The revolutions of the future must be directed not against the rich but against the poor....How the Church and the false revolutionaries draw together: love the poor--for they are humble. I say hate the poor for the humility which keeps their faces pressed into the mud...tell them to walk proudly on this earth...
Moonlight had tricked her. She will tell her mother, "It's alright, mother, he never laid a hand on me. He was an...eclectic man." They were never alone. The walk has tried her, she will have a good night's sleep and it will be alright. She will forget...
Last week Wilbur recounted what he had been told as a grad student at Harvard, wherein we are told: "Show, don't tell." Then he read a long narrative poem in blank verse which first appeared in the New Yorker last year, and which I remember was about someone telling an insomniac how to get to sleep. What I had not remembered was that the poem explained much more, was a defining of perception and a sad discussion of his art. "What you must manage is to bring to life/ A landscape not worth looking at." "Nor must you dream...
...sentence to single-word answers to all those great questions we've forgotten we're asking while at the same time making the narrator seem disinterested, almost unconscious, of what he's told us. It makes us think we've discovered something on our own. We want to tell Vonnegut about what he's put there in his book. And because the thought is ours, we free-associate the thought into our own experience, the petty incidents of our own lives, until then it becomes crashingly meaningful to our personal existence...