When Wolfe died, William Faulkner said he was the greatest writer of their time.
“I saw in their eyes something I was to see over and over in every part of the nation- a burning desire to go, to move, to get under way, anyplace, away from any Here. They spoke quietly of how they wanted to go someday, to move about, free and unanchored, not toward something but […]
“There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed.”
― Ernest Hemingway
THE LILAC IS AN ANCIENT SHRUB Emily Dickinson The Lilac is an ancient Shrub But ancienter than that The Firmamental Lilac Opon the Hill Tonight— The Sun subsiding on his Course Bequeathes this final plant To Contemplation—not to Touch— The Flower of Occident. Of one Corolla is the West— The Calyx is the Earth— […]
THE CRACK-UP F. Scott Fitzgerald Of course all life is a process of breaking down, but the blows that do the dramatic side of the work-the big sudden blows that come, or seem to come, from outside-the ones you remember and blame things on and, in moments of weakness, tell your friends about, don’t show […]