Sublime

Hemingway offered to modify the noun with “lousy” or “lesbian,” but if anyone was ever a bitch, he said it was Gertrude Stein.

maybe Whit had evolved unintentionally, a victim of the times, swayed by a president who wallowed in immorality, who cheated on his taxes, cheated in business, cheated on his wives, cheated in politics, cheated the public health in a pandemic, and even bragged about all this cheating, making dishonesty into a core personality trait—the core.

The death of Wolfe’s father in 1922, when Tom was earning his Master of Arts degree at Harvard, so traumatized the author that it took hundreds of pages in graphic detail before he wrote it out of his system.

Max had been forewarned of Wolfe’s unusual appearance, but he was nonetheless startled by the massiveness of the six-foot six-inch, black-haired man leaning against the jamb, filling his doorway.

One summer afternoon Mrs Oedipa Maas came home from a Tupper-ware party whose hostess had put perhaps too much kirsch in the fondue to find that she, Oedipa, had been named executor, or she supposed executrix, of the estate of one Pierce Inverarity, a California real estate mogul who had once lost two million dollars in his spare time but still had

He looked like a man who expected his steaks rare and his golf courses pesticide-drenched; a man who believed he was entitled to all that he touched.

Father grinned and winked at his visitor. Joe Kane decided that the man who confronted him was mildly insane but harmless.

Walter Duranty is now largely considered a media outlier or an anomaly, a reporter whose character flaws slipped through the editorial cracks of his institution. But the reality is that Duranty fits a prominent pattern at the Times of a star reporter whose celebrity enables him or her to commit journalistic malfeasance in plain sight of his