My wife and I lived all alone, contention was our only bone. I fought with her, she fought with me, and things went on right merrily. But now I live here by myself with hardly a damn thing on the… — Robert Creeley Copy Share Image
I will go to the garden. I will be a romantic. I will sell myself in hell, in heaven also I will be. — Robert Creeley Copy Share
Moon, moon, when you leave me alone all the darkness is an utter blackness, a pit of fear, a stench, hands unreasonable never to… — Robert Creeley Copy Share
All of which was OK, as that proved then, I certainly wouldn't contradict it as a necessary sense of things. — Robert Creeley Copy Share
That poetry survived in its formal agencies finally, and that prose survived to get something said. — Robert Creeley Copy Share
He lives out in Orchard Park. I mean, to be able to sit on the bench so patiently, for whatever part, and to be… — Robert Creeley Copy Share
Comes the time when it's later and onto your table the headwaiter puts the bill — Robert Creeley Copy Share
It's the classic story form. All staying equal, or proving equal, or being equal, this will all continue, and the next time around, we'll… — Robert Creeley Copy Share
It is hard going to the door cut so small in the wall where the vision which echoes loneliness brings a scent of wild… — Robert Creeley Copy Share
For love - I would split open your head and put a candle in behind the eyes. — Robert Creeley Copy Share
The awful thing, as a kid reading, was that you came to the end of the story, and that was it. I mean, it… — Robert Creeley Copy Share
I don’t think any man writing can worry about what the act of writing costs him, even though at times he is very aware… — Robert Creeley Copy Share
