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...Graham Greene Stamboul Train This thriller follows travelers on the Orient Express from Ostend, Belgium, to Constantinople. But railway officials rejected Greene's request for a free ride, and he could afford the trip only as far as Cologne. He extrapolated the rest, setting the last chapter near tourist sites featured in books...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: It's All In Their Heads | 2/15/2007 | See Source »

...letter. Frank Harris, author of the social and erotic confession My Life and Loves (which had not yet been legally published in the U.S.), got the biographical treatment. The mood lightened with a couple dozen limericks, familiar to centuries of frat boys. The harlot from Kew, the man from Stamboul and the fellow from Kent all made guest appearances, but not, alas, the hermit named Dave...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: My Favorite Pornographer | 7/15/2006 | See Source »

...eagerness to make a living, sometimes before considering literary merits of his novellas, meant that Greene was comfortable writing both weighty literature and popular escapist fare like Stamboul Train, which he himself acknowledged he wrote purely for entertainment...

Author: By Vinita M. Alexander, CRIMSON STAFF WRITER | Title: Graham Greene Centennial Celebrated | 11/5/2004 | See Source »

Breaking the Ice. The patriarchal palace is a dusty little compound near the lumberyards of old Stamboul, across the Golden Horn from modern Istanbul. There, Athenagoras rises at 7 for prayer, spends most of his days keeping up with a vast worldwide correspondence and seeing visitors, to whom he offers a tidbit of sickly sweet Turkish jam. Eager to prod Orthodoxy into a dialogue with other churches, Athenagoras looked forward to his meeting with the Pope. "The ice has been broken," said Athenagoras. "Soon a new era will begin in the history of Christendom...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: Orthodoxy: Descendant of St. Andrew | 1/10/1964 | See Source »

...Western visitor finds relief in leaving Belgrade. The Ori ent Express, which had come from Stamboul and Sofia, crawled across the snowy Voivodina plain. In my first-class wagon-lit compartment, the washbasin was dirty. There was neither soap nor towel. The bed pillows were grubby. The Serbian Pullman attendant grabbed my passport and exit permit and as good as told me that was all he had to do - from there on it was a mat ter of indifference to him whether I starved, sang or jumped out of the window. In fact, I munched salami between gross layers...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: Report On Yugoslavia: A Search for Laughter | 1/30/1950 | See Source »

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