Arthur Miller wouldn't have married me if I had been nothing but a dumb blonde.
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Arthur Miller wouldn't have married me if I had been nothing but a dumb blonde.
The average American can get into the kingdom of heaven much more easily than he can get into the Boulevard St. Germain.
Paris is always a good idea.
When [Yoko and I] got back together, we decided that this is our life. That having a baby was important to us, and that everything else was subsidiary to that, and therefore everything else had to be abandoned. I mean, abandonment gave us the fulfillment we were looking for and the space to breathe.
Dietrich. In the German language: the name for a key that opens all locks. Not a magic key. A very real object, necessitating great skills in the making.
When I was growing up in the 60's, Simone de Beauvoir and Jean-Paul Sartre were a model couple, already legendary creatures, rebels with a great many causes, and leaders of what could be called the first postwar youth movement: existentialism, a philosophy that rejected all absolutes and talked of freedom, authenticity, and difficult choices. It had its own music and garb of sophisticated black which looked wonderful against a cafe backdrop. Sartre and De Beauvoir were its Bogart and Bacall, partners in a gloriously modern love affair lived out between jazz club, cafe and writing desk, with forays on to the platforms and streets of protest. Despite being indissolubly united and bound by ideas, they remained unmarried and free to engage openly in any number of relationships. This radical departure from convention seemed breathtaking at the time.
Was it possible that Napoleon should win the battle of Waterloo? We answer, No! Why? Because of Wellington? Because of Blücher? No! Because of God! For Bonaparte to conquer at Waterloo was not the law of the nineteenth century. It was time that this vast man should fall. He had been impeached before the Infinite! He had vexed God! Waterloo was not a battle. It was the change of front of the Universe!
In 1913, when Anthony Patch was twenty-five, two years were already gone since irony, the Holy Ghost of this later day, had, theoretically at least, descended upon him.
There is now, in France, in each village, a lighted torch, the schoolmaster, and a mouth which blows upon it, the curè.
Herodotus says: "Very few things happen at the right time, and the rest do not happen at all. The conscientious historian will correct these defects".