Word: moonlit
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Dates: during 1980-1989
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...would be delightful to think that he actually uttered those words, looking for sermons in the shaking stones. In any case, Muir was alone in the moonlit mountains, and so he could indulge his charming 19th century awe. When the earth turned in its sleep, it crushed much landscape in the folds, but somehow the event could keep its innocence. When nature does something awful, after all, is it part of the electrical display of God the Father, or merely geography rearranging itself, obeying an impersonal agenda...
...high school sweethearts would take exception. "Statutory rape" is a label applied to any sexual intercourse--consensual or not--with a woman under 18. Any man who had a sexually active relationship at this age is a statutory rapist. (Yes, that includes even magical moonlit nights after the junior prom...
...moonwalk down the Champs Elysees. Nor could they dampen the soaring spirit evoked when American diva Jessye Norman, wrapped in the blue, white and red colors of the French flag, sang La Marseillaise. For a few fleeting days the City of Light shone brighter than usual. For a magical moonlit moment -- but only a moment -- it seemed possible that the divisions that have sundered France between revolutionaries and royalists, between left and right, between natives and immigrants, would melt in the bicentennial bonhomie...
...this end he enlists his best friend Aldo (John Turturro) to tame the shrew with roses and sweet talk. Cyrano did better. Janice stands on a moonlit balcony, takes a look at the flowers, snorts "What faw?" and tosses them to the ground. Her contempt stokes Aldo's ardor and Huey's too. As their older friend May (Helen Hanft) notes wistfully about the triumph of love over logic, "I'll never again have the courage to be that stupid...
...battleground that is really a testing ground, bumpy and full of bad breaks. Like youth, the longest shots start to go a little awry, until, like hope, they disappear entirely into the darkness of the day. "Unrecoverable," say the caddies without irony, over and over. "Unrecoverable." On the moonlit night, the golf-course hotel might be Baskerville Hall. From the center window of the Roberto de Vicenzo suite, the shadow of the course appears to be moving. Something emits a low, long, unimaginably sad wail. It's a golfer...