Word: writings
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Dates: during 1920-1929
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...forgot, you're a poet, aren't you? Why don't you write a poem for me about our walking off like this alone and leaving it all? (No, I'd rather just lean against this big rough old tree...
Well, even if you only like poetry, that's almost as though you wrote it. I love poetry, and that's what makes me write it, I suppose. Well, perhaps you could hardly call it poetry. I mean a Harvard man wouldn't. There's a Princeton fellow who teaches sloyd at the camp on the other side of the lake, and he said that the lines were so filled with--well, he named it right out--passion, that they fairly seethed. Seethed. Well (No, thanks awfully, I'm quite comfortable just here, this way), I admit I had sometimes...
Wiping three tears out of one eye, Harry Evans sat down at his desk, in the time-honored office of Life, and wrote, last week, under the caption The Movies, the following wan preamble: "With head uncovered I bow reverently and take my pen in hand to write this column, formerly edited by the dean of all moving picture critics, Robert E. Sherwood...
...with his customary charm he gives other than serious artistic justification for the compressed plays-"their brevity flatters my inability to sustain a long flight, and the inertia that barely permits me to write at all. And finally when I became a teacher, here was the length that could be compassed after the lights of the House were out and the sheaf of absurd French exercises indignantly marked with red crayon...
Then, in 1908, President Jesup died and Dr. Osborn dutifully took his place. The post meant more work. That he recognized was good for him, for it forced him to reorganize his activities. He did so and had time to write his books. In 1910 he wrote three, last year three and in between a half dozen others. They, more than the works of any other recent writer, have served to make unspecialized readers think scientifically...