Word: tree
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Dates: during 1960-1969
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...half-staff through the week. This week the flags go back to full staff as the university and the capital attempt to return to normal. That may take a while. The 17 chimes in the tower from which Charlie Whitman shot peal each quarter-hour, resounding over the tree-shaded campus and the mist-mantled hills beyond...
...come to a rest on the lawn of the Quincy police station. A large group of local youths who had been trailing and taunting the marchers gathered nearby; gradually, they wandered over and began talking. Two of them approached a marcher, who was sitting exhausted under a large tree...
...South and Western Australia, census takers from Humbug Scrub to Boologooroo prowled the inner edge of the Great Australian Bight in search of opal gougers, oil drillers, boundary riders and randomly wandering rabbiters. One truck driver from Adelaide was asked to deliver and collect questionnaires on the lonely "No Tree" Plain when he went out to pick up rabbits from the wandering hunters. He got five tons of rabbits and 200 questionnaires...
Every Friday afternoon, Novelist and Screenwriter Budd Schulberg leaves his tree-shaded home in North Beverly Hills and drives across town to the Negro slum of Watts. There, at the Watts Happening Coffee House, a ramshackle building across the street from the charred foundation of a store razed in last year's riots, the author of What Makes Sammy Run? sits down for three hours with a small group of ghetto-scarred Negroes and teaches them how to write poetry, plays, short stories and novels. A onetime teacher of creative writing at Columbia, Schulberg says that their writing ability...
...world of Samuel Beckett, the entire machinery of existence seems to be grinding to a halt. Words leave his characters' mouths between pauses and in slow motion, as if speech were becoming extinct. The scenery is either fossilized, the bare gnarled tree of Waiting For Godot, or funereal, the ashcans of Endgame, the urns of Play, the mound of earth in Happy Days.'Man is maimed and buried alive in these props. One critic has called a Beckett hero a perverse Cartesian: I stink, therefore I am. Actually, the degradation and mutilation of the body are Beckett...