Word: burnting
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...pours silence drawn from striped pools. Gilbert Stuart's Flautist is a man cut off from that silence, from wife and children, village, home. He sits soulnaked, haltered in other men's finery. Stuart, the master ironist who gave us a grandmotherly George Washington, here portrays a burnt-cork-face minstrel in reverse. This is a handsome black musician masked, glassed, in a transparent nightmare of snow white. The score before him is withered moonlight. The snakes who wove a raft to carry him have fled away beneath the sea. He holds his flute still, as a drowning...
...Japan's most important writers, took an absurdist nightmare-the tale of a man's adjustment to life in an escapeless pit-and gave it both mythic reality and a moral power. Abé's The Face of Another, a novel about a chemist with a burnt-out face who attempts to function behind a life mask he has fashioned for himself, is as direct as any contemporary exploration of the identity-crisis theme. The Ruined Map, his newest novel to be translated into English, involves the Japanese version of a traditional Western private...
Last week he finally announced his man: Illinois Congressman Donald Rumsfeld. Presiding over OEO's burnt-out shell seemed to be an extremely un promising job for an ambitious, attractive young Republican like "Rummy" Rumsfeld. He would be giving up one of the safest seats in Congress: his constituents had sent him to Congress four straight times. But, argued the White House, running OEO will be only a portion of his responsibility. Rumsfeld will also have full Cabinet status and be a presidential assistant (salary: $42,500, equal to congressional pay). Finally, he will sit on Pat Moynihan...
...announce their publication a special meeting was held. "An effigy of President Quincy was hung with a rope about his neck from the Rebellion tree--a bonfire built near it--a loud shouting raised--and after exhibited for some time in this way, it was set on fire and burnt . . . this was done by the Junior Class and by a vote of the Class...
Looking out the windshield from my cramped position in the back seat, I could see little of what lay ahead on the nearly empty highway. Sometimes, out of the window next to me, I'd catch fragments of the passing landscape--usually just mist-surrounded trees or burnt red barns...