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
believe writing two
Imagism was a reductio ad absurdum of one or two tendencies of romanticism, such a beautifully and finally absurd one that it is hard to believe it existed as anything but a logical construction; and what imagist found it possible to go on writing imagist poetry? A number of poets have stopped writing entirely; others, like recurring decimals, repeat the novelties they commeced with, each time less valuably than before. And there are surrealist poetry, and political poetry, and all the othe refuges of the indigent.
believe poetry poet
It is always hard for poets to believe that one says their poems are bad not because one is a fiend but because their poems are bad.
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.