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Word: poetes (lookup in dictionary) (lookup stats)
Dates: during 1960-1969
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Usage:

William H. Bond, director of Houghton Library, who is familiar with the original papers of E.E. Cummings, T. S. Eliot, John Keats and many others, says that no poet or novelist ever revised his own writing more than Leon Trotsky...

Author: By Gerald M. Rosberg, | Title: LEON TROTSKY'S PERSONAL PAPERS | 7/3/1967 | See Source »

...Literary Series: James Merrill, poet, reading from his own work. Emerson Hall...

Author: NO WRITER ATTRIBUTED | Title: Summer School Calendar | 7/3/1967 | See Source »

Near the play's conclusion, Theseus states, "The lunatic, the lover, and the poet/ Are of imagination all compact." In the current version, there's plenty of lunacy, plenty of love, but precious little poetry. For this Cyril Ritchard must be held largely responsible. He should have faced up to the fact that his attempt to do almost everything himself was, like his own anatomy, characterized by an inability to see his own Bottom

Author: By Caldwell Titcomb, | Title: Middling 'Midsummer Night's Dream' Opens | 7/3/1967 | See Source »

Near the play's conclusion, Theseus states, "The lunatic, the lover, and the poet/ Are of imagination all compact." In the current version, there's plenty of lunacy, plenty of love, but precious little poetry. For this Cyril Ritchard must be held largely responsible. He should have faced up to the fact that his attempt to do almost everything himself was, like his own anatomy, characterized by an inability to see his own Bottom

Author: By Timothy Crouse, | Title: Moynihan Helped to Smooth Way For Kodak-FIGHT Reconciliation | 7/3/1967 | See Source »

...chronic fault was that he was a wastrel-and not only in his constant pursuit of a new bed or bottle. He was recklessly profligate in everything. Some of these letters about relatively unimportant matters contain some of his best prose. Thus, in a lyrical homesick reply to Poet Margaret Taylor (after she had written him about a house he might rent in Wales): "The room, the velvet, padded room upstairs where poems are waiting like people one has always loved but never met, and O to sit there, lost, alone in the universe, at home, at last, the people...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: Books: The Prodigal | 6/30/1967 | See Source »

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