Word: tenderness
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Endless words have a way of expressing boundless guilt. No one can say whether or not the author's death was intended to be a comment on the loneliness of Japan's elderly-a subject Kawabata had written about with exactitude and tender sympathy. Nonetheless, his suicide focused attention on an alarming fact about Japan's aged citizens: fully one-third of all suicides occur among those 60 and over. Among women over 65, the rate is 45.9 per 100,-000-the highest in the world...
...Yevgeny Yevtushenko was impressed by the Apollo 16 launch, but what really grabbed him was his visit to the launch pad the night before, accompanied by Apollo 15 Astronaut David Scott and a bottle of champagne. He forgot to open the bottle, so moved was he by "the white, tender body of the rocket, supported by the clumsy, tender hands of its red tower. It was like big brother embracing his sister before going a long way. It was a great impression." And that was not all. The tower was also "a sea crab that accidentally found on the bottom...
...also likes to keep other women on the side. Coretta wants the security that this black man cannot give her, and Nate wants the freedom that the white world will not allow him. They are caught in the bittersweet toils of their love, and Richard Wesley has written a tender, sad and compassionate play that is utterly and luminously honest. T.E. Kalem
...treat it harshly--in his film at least--and Yukio Mishima's Rite of Love and Death (1965), showing with it this Friday, is similarly made within assumptions rather than about them. But Rite has none of the warmth of Mizoguchi: love is sublime and passionate rather than tender, death is ordained and noble rather than resented and mesay. Mercifully, considering its intensity, Rite lasts only 25 minutes. It portrays the double suicide of a young lieutenant and his wife in 1936, dealing with the event as a ritual--set upon a stage, without dislogue but interspersed with a written...
...hadn't seen him very much in the past few weeks. I knew something was wrong, that he was doing something he was ashamed to tell us. He had been very sweet to me, holding my hand, saying tender things. It was a sign of something unusual. But he was terribly happy and relaxed the last night. At the Copacabana, I never saw him laugh so hard. My guard was down, just as his guard was down. And that's when they get you, when your guard is down...