Word: bleakness
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...Kuwaiti officials took a tough stand; 17 terrorists were brought to trial and sentenced to death or terms in prison. It was in the hope of forcing Kuwait to release the imprisoned terrorists that the hijackers set out on the murderous road that led to the bleak tarmac in Tehran...
Before he was named this year's Nobel laureate in literature, Czech Poet Jaroslav Seifert, 83, was little known outside his homeland. For Czechs, it was a recognition that was overdue: he has long been revered for his insistence on artistic freedom. Even during the bleak days after the 1968 invasion of Czechoslovakia by Warsaw Pact forces, Seifert spoke out forcefully against the policies of the new Soviet-installed regime. For the next decade his writings were repressed, although his poetry is essentially unpolitical. Communist authorities finally relented when they realized that Seifert's poems were circulating widely...
...Those bleak observations are not the distilled fantasies of the Kremlin. They are the benchmarks of reality, according to Jean-François Revel, 60, the distinguished journalist, iconoclastic philosopher and persistent gadfly of French politics. In his profoundly pessimistic view, the West is on the verge of losing its prolonged struggle for coexistence with Communism. But, Revel argues, "it's the case that's pessimistic, not the person stating...
Reagan's outspoken pro-handgun stance and his support of the NRA seem an ironic turning of the other cheek, but the constitutional freedoms he invokes have hit home with voters, spelling major setbacks for advocates of gun control. If it was bleak for these activists after the 1980 conservative landslide, is it defeat after 1984's instant replay? Perhaps not, for two reasons. First, Reagan's short "coattails" did not produce a conservative sweep in the congressional races. Secondly, the repercussions of the victory have jolted handgun control activists into the daring shift toward local politics, a change that...
Even while supply planes raise huge clouds of dust in the bleak landscape, small groups of skeletal figures continue to make long, hobbling journeys to the relief camps. Most of them are little more than bones covered with skin, their faces reduced to huge-eyed skulls. By night, when the temperature can drop into the 40s, they huddle close together in their foxholes; by day, they sit in tiny squatting areas marked off by stones, their meager possessions arranged around them. When shipments of food arrive, local officials, armed with long staves, round up survivors and hand...