Word: yards
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Dates: during 1970-1979
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Strider and the prince plummet to their fates in parallel lines. The animal prince in Strider is flogged into the ground in a vain chase after Serpuhofsky's faithless mistress (Burrell transformed into a heart wrecker of a woman). Strider ends in the knacker's yard awaiting the knife. Serpuhofsky, too tipsy to stand up, a prince turned slave, a man who once commanded 2 million rubles, ends up trying to cadge a thousand from an arriviste. In a moment of extreme poignance, the prince spies Strider. He remembers him and yet refuses to recognize him. Time...
...fall term of your freshman year is like a cataract--it steadily creeps over you, encasing you in academics and activities, until finally you're so blinded you cannot see a world beyond Harvard Yard. Your behavior changes: your gaze becomes glazed like the Wild Man of Borneo, your feet almost automatically head for Lamont Library, you don't think you have even a few moments to spare to run to the Coop or see friends, and your whole world revolves around the Union and the Science Center. It's entirely possible to wake up on a Monday and realize...
...might be a good idea to get to know your senior adviser, since the Yard senior advisers are the Ad Board representatives for freshmen. If you falter academically or otherwise during the year, you will be up before the Ad Board--or rather, your case will. You won't be, since one of the Ad Board's operating rules is that students cannot represent themselves. Upperclassmen are represented by their House senior tutors, freshmen by their senior advisers, so they are your defenders, like...
Total strangers wandered through the dorm, madly introducing themselves, in search of instant friends. The nauseatingly sweet smell of incense (burned to cover the odor of dope) and the stench of old beer permeated the dorm. Music blared from every corner of the Yard, while huge groups of drunken men huddled and leered at women going from party to party. I got asked the big four questions--name, school, career plans, SAT scores--so often I could recite them in seconds (although I refused, as a matter of principle, to talk scores). After one night of parties...
...note away, packed up the last box, and headed for the door. I did not dread returning to Harvard the following year; I had made good friends and found a niche in East Asian Studies and The Crimson. I looked forward to starting over, out of the Yard. But I savored every last step down the stairs, past Chuck's room and out of Stoughton forever. Chuck's still loose. And Stoughton's still there. Welcome to Harvard.CrimsonAnthea Letsou...