Randall Jarrell
Randall Jarrell
Randall Jarrellwas an American poet, literary critic, children's author, essayist, novelist, and the 11th Consultant in Poetry to the Library of Congress, a position that now bears the title Poet Laureate...
NationalityAmerican
ProfessionPoet
Date of Birth6 May 1914
CountryUnited States of America
girl dream baby
I shook myself; I was dreaming. As I went to bed the words of the eighth-grade class's teacher, when the class got to Evangeline , kept echoing in my ears: "We're coming to a long poem now, boys and girls. Now don't be babies and start counting the pages." I lay there like a baby, counting the pages over and over, counting the pages.
baby book men
More and more people think of the critic as an indispensable middle man between writer and reader, and would no more read a book alone, if they could help it, than have a baby alone.
adjusted environment president
President Robbins was so well adjusted to his environment that sometimes you could not tell which was the environment and which was President Robbins.
became clay dirty dressed future housewives pine red southern stare
The Southern past, the Southern present, the Southern future became one of red clay pine barrens, of chain-gang camps, of housewives dressed in flour sacks who stare all day dully down into dirty sinks.
american-poet partisan paul review thinks
He thinks that Schiller and St Paul were just two Partisan Review editors.
except feels united
In the United States, there one feels free... Except from the Americans - but every pearl has its oyster.
entertain home life rest
It is better to entertain an idea than to take it home to live with you for the rest of your life
blind date stood
The blind date that has stood you up: your life.
obvious
One of the most obvious facts about grown-ups, to a child, is that they have forgotten what it is like to be a child.
ball belly black death dream fell flak fur miles nightmare six until washed wet woke
The Death of the Ball Turret Gunner. From my mother's sleep, I fell into the State, and I hunched in its belly until my wet fur froze. Six miles from earth, loosed from its dream of life, I woke to black flak and the nightmare fighters. When I died, they washed me out of the turret with a hose.
except feels free pearl united
In the United States, there one feels free . . . Except from the Americans - but every pearl has its oyster.
speak
We are all so to speak intellectuals about something.
clothes hair naked
Both in verse and in prose [Karl] Shapiro loves, partly out of indignation and partly out of sheer mischievousness, to tell the naked truths or half-truths or quarter-truths that will make anybody's hair stand on end; he is always crying: "But he hasn't any clothes on!" about an emperor who is half the time surprisingly well-dressed.
animal form human-life
Human life without some form of poetry is not human life but animal existence.