Fierce Solitude: a Life of J.g. Fletcher (c)University of Arkansas Press |
Contents
| 1 | |
| 33 | |
TRANSATLANTIC CROSSINGS | 70 |
MYTHS OF LOST WORLDS | 115 |
A COSMOPOLITAN SOUTHERNER | 174 |
THE LONG TWILIGHT OF AN ARKANSAS GENTLEMAN | 212 |
NOTES | 255 |
BIBLIOGRAPHICAL NOTE | 289 |
INDEX | 293 |
Common terms and phrases
Adolphine aesthetic Agrarian Aldington Allen Tate American Amy Lowell anthology April artist August autobiography began Boston Charlie May Simon Conrad Aiken Cournos critical culture Daisy Arbuthnot David Terry Davidson December Diary dream early emotions England essay Ezra Pound Falconer's Fortune February File Fletcher explained Goblins and Pagodas Harriet Monroe husband Imagism Imagist January JGF to AFT JGF to FEF JGF to JC JGF to MFD JGF to NHP John Cournos John Crowe Ransom John Gould Fletcher Johnswood journal June later letter literary literature Little Rock London Lowell's manuscript March Mary modern Modernist mother Mumford Notebooks November O'Brien October Owsley poems poet poet's poetry prose published Romantic September sister Social Credit Song South Southern Symbolist Symphony T. S. Eliot thought throughout tradition University of Arkansas Van Wyck Brooks verse volume wife writing Wyck Brooks York
Popular passages
Page 50 - thing" whether subjective or objective. 2. To use absolutely no word that does not contribute to the presentation. 3. As regarding rhythm: to compose in the sequence of the musical phrase, not in sequence of a metronome.
Page 34 - Humble and rustic life was generally chosen, because, in that condition, the essential passions of the heart find a better soil in which they can attain their maturity, are less under restraint, and speak a plainer and more emphatic language...
Page 110 - What are the roots that clutch, what branches grow Out of this stony rubbish ? Son of man, You cannot say, or guess, for you know only A heap of broken images, where the sun beats, And the dead tree gives no shelter, the cricket no relief, And the dry stone no sound of water.
Page 274 - Without Contraries is no progression. Attraction and Repulsion, Reason and Energy, Love and Hate, are necessary to Human existence. From these contraries spring what the religious call Good and Evil. Good is the passive that obeys Reason. Evil is the active springing from Energy. Good is Heaven. Evil is Hell.
Page 75 - Beautiful as a tiered cloud, skysails set and shrouds twanging, she emerges from the surges that keep running away before day on the low Pacific shore. With the roar of the wind blowing half a gale after, she heels and lunges, and buries her bows in the smother, lifting them swiftly, and scattering the glistening spray-drops from her jibsails with laughter. Her spars are cracking, her royals are half splitting, her lower stunsail booms are bent aside, like bowstrings ready to loose, and the water...
Page 59 - Glint of the glittering wings of dragon-flies in the light: Silver filaments, golden flakes settling downwards, Rippling, quivering flutters, repulse and surrender, The sun broidered upon the rain, the rain rustling with the sun.
Page 82 - gainst the wet green stalks Of the streaming trees — the passing of the wind Upon the pale lower terraces of my dream Is like the crinkling of the wet grey robes Of the hours that come to turn over the urn Of the day and spill its rainy dream. Vague movement over the puddled terraces : Heavy gold...
Page 12 - OLD NURSERY In the tired face of the mirror There is a blue curtain reflected. If I could lift the reflection, Peer a little beyond, I would see A boy crying Because his sister is ill in another room And he has no one to play with : A boy listlessly scattering building blocks, And crying, Because no one will build for him the palace of Fairy Morgana. I cannot lift the curtain : It is stiff and frozen.
Page 59 - Over the housetops, Above the rotating chimney-pots, I have seen a shiver of amethyst, And blue and cinnamon have flickered A moment, At the far end of a dusty street. Through sheeted rain Has come a lustre of crimson, And I have watched moonbeams Hushed by a film of palest green. It was her wings, Goddess! Who stepped over the clouds, And laid her rainbow feathers Aslant on the currents of the air.
Page 87 - A silence of heat, of water, of unchecked fruitfulness Through which each year the heavy harvests bloom, and burst and fall. Deep, matted green silence of my South, Often within the push and...
References to this book
Where No Flag Flies: Donald Davidson and the Southern Resistance Mark Royden Winchell Limited preview - 2000 |