Word: warmth
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Dates: during 1980-1989
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...sexual love. It's not. We think of love only as two human beings in love. But it isn't in love. It's love. It's love toward an object. It can be a love toward those shells," he says, pointing nearby. "It's a love of warmth, of finding something precious. It's like a wonderful animal, a dog that will come up and sit in your lap and you pet its head. This is something we've lost. A lot of people will take my wife's statement wrong, but I think it's very beautiful...
...feeling for family -- genteel or belligerent, sickening and sustaining -- is crucial to DeVito, born 41 years ago in Asbury Park, N.J. "My father was a tough man with a great deal of warmth," he says. "It made for a mixed bag of emotions; you never knew when it would explode. He owned a candy store, then a dry cleaner's, then a pool hall. In the pool hall, I'd put tips on the cues, clean the tables and hang out. It was my day-care center. At home I was spoiled by my mom and her millions of girlfriends...
...insure the safety of students who felt threatened by the vagrants at the entrance of their dining hall, the masters of Leverett installed the steel barriers outside the dormitory. But when several homeless men began sticking their arms and legs through the metal grates in search of warmth, the uproar on campus attracted both the attention of the national media and the ire of America...
...Cuomo style is a mixture of warmth and wit. He is simpatico. As a reporter embarks on a question, Cuomo yells out, "I deny it! I deny it!" He describes something that irks him as "just a walnut in the batter of eternity." In the midst of a conversation Cuomo is having with an elderly woman from Queens, his press secretary, Martin Steadman, sneezes while she is talking. "That's a Yiddish sign," she says, "that the person talking is telling the truth." Cuomo turns to Steadman: "Next time, see if you can sneeze while I'm talking...
...forms one vivid strand of this intricately interwoven novel. She and Pinkham had flourished during the 1960s. It was a time of adolescent hope, particularly for people entering their 30s and 40s. She writes, "Your father, think of it, Bayard, was rebuilding slums. There was to be warmth and light, Shakespeare and the beat of African drums . . . Your mother wrapped in a slave's headcloth above a bastard dashiki. French champagne with grits. See the good of it before you laugh...