#AmericanWriters
By constantly tormenting them with reminders of the lice in their children’s hair, the School Physician first brought their hatred down on him.
They call me and I go. It is a frozen road past midnight, a dust of snow caught in the rigid wheeltracks.
The living quality of the man’s mind stands out and its covert assertions for art, art, art!
contend in a sea which the land pa… shielding them from the too—heavy… of an ungoverned ocean which when… tortures the biggest hulls, the be… to pit against its beatings, and s…
I gotta buy me a new girdle. (I’ll buy you one) O.K.
It is a willow when summer is over… a willow by the river from which no leaf has fallen nor bitten by the sun turned orange or crimson.
First he said: It is the woman in us That makes us write– Let us acknowledge it– Men would be silent.
Yellow, yellow, yellow, yellow! It is not a color. It is summer! It is the wind on a willow, the lap of waves, the shadow
I have had my dream—like others— and it has come to nothing, so tha… I remain now carelessly with feet planted on the ground and look up at the sky—
What have I to say to you When we shall meet? Yet— I lie here thinking of you. The stain of love
The crowd at the ball game is moved uniformly by a spirit of uselessness which delights them— all the exciting detail
Tho’ I’m no Catholic I listen hard when the bells in the yellow—brick tower of their new church ring down the leaves
The over-all picture is winter icy mountains in the background the return from the hunt it is toward evening from the left
Gagarin says, in ecstasy, he could have gone on forever he floated ate and sang
The coroner’s merry little childre… Have such twinkling brown eyes. Their father is not of gay men And their mother jocular in no wis… Yet the coroner’s merry little chi…