But sometimes everything I write with the threadbare art of my eye seems a snapshot — Robert Lowell Copy Share Image
“Naval officers were not mother's sort; very few people were her sort in those days, and that was her trouble - a very authentic,… — Robert Lowell Copy Share Image
Pity the planet, all joy gone from this sweet volcanic cone; peace to our children when they fall in small war on the heel… — Robert Lowell Copy Share Image
“The English departments were clogged with worthy but outworn and backwardlooking scholars whose tastes in the moderns were most often superficial, random, and vulgar.… — Robert Lowell Copy Share Image
“Sleeper in the Valley" The river sings and cuts a hole in the meadow, madly hooking white tatters on the rushes. light escalades the… — Robert Lowell Copy Share Image
“Reading Myself" Like thousands I took just pride and more than just, struck matches that brought my blood to a boil; I memorized the… — Robert Lowell Copy Share Image
“We are poor passing facts. warned by that to give each figure in the photograph his living name.” — Robert Lowell Copy Share Image
“Those blessèd structures, plot and rhyme— why are they no help to me now I want to make something imagined, not recalled?” — Robert Lowell Copy Share Image
It's a completely powerful and serious book, as good as anything in prose or poetry written by a 'beat' writer, and one of the… — Robert Lowell Copy Share Image
Life begins to happen. My hoppped up husband drops his home disputes, and hits the streets to cruise for prostitutes — Robert Lowell Copy Share Image
“Things last, but sometimes for days here only children seem fit to handle children, and there is no utility or inspiration in the wind… — Robert Lowell Copy Share Image
“This is the departure strip, the dream-road. Whoever built it left numbers, words and arrows. He had to leave in a hurry.” — Robert Lowell Copy Share Image
