Word: weepingly
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Dates: during 1960-1969
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...since Aeschylus, the number of dramatic geniuses could be counted on one and a half hands. The theater does not live on its masterpieces but between them. Man created the theater in his own image, and it wears two masks and a thousand faces. The mask of tragedy says weep-and bear it. The mask of comedy says grin-and bear it. The theater is witness and partner to man's endurance. Tawdry or frivolous, gallant, polemical or profound, the theater is the place where man speaks to man about man in his living presence...
...best savored in the small lantern-lit taverns tucked away in the cobblestone alleys of old Lisbon. There, in an atmosphere drenched with pathos and the aroma of musky wine and spicy sausages, the black-draped fadistas cry out in voices quavering with anguish. Against a back ground of weeping guitars, they sing of sin and love gone wrong, of wasted lives and impending doom. Fado means destiny, and its baleful laments are more than the fatalistic Portuguese can bear: old men weep and women grow faint, all revelling in the joys of suffering...
...this renowned intellectual prig came to terms with her natural feelings and at the end allowed herself tears at a Catholic funeral, without even sneering at the priest beyond pointing out that he had trousers on under his chasuble. It acknowledges: "I did not understand that one might sincerely weep for a relative . . . if I met a woman of fifty overcome with sadness because she had lost her mother, I thought her neurotic." Then her rage against the fact of death asserts itself. "There is no such thing as a natural death . . . you do not die of being born...
...ceremonies. "No use applauding; you don't know what you're getting," he told an audience at Emerson Hall. "To make sure the evening isn't completely wasted. I'll read a poem by another man first..."He prefaced dream song #29 with a mock-heroic line: "Prepare to weep, ladies and gentlemen. Saul Bellow and I almost kill ourselves laughing about the dream songs and various chapters in his novels, but other people feel bad. Are you all ready to feel bad?" And more sternly," this is not a cultural occasion. No instruction is taking place...
...church bells reminded Jaurès of Schiller's Song of the Bells: "I summon the living, I mourn the dead, I break the furnaces." Cried Jaurès: "I call on the living that they may defend themselves from the monster who appears on the horizon. I weep for the countless dead now rotting in the East. I will break the thunderbolts of war which menace from the skies." Eighteen months later, Jaurès was dead of bullets fired by a youthful assassin who found such pacifism unpatriotic. On the day of his burial...