Except From The Americans—but Every Pearl Has

The Southern Past, The Southern Present, The Southern Future, Concentrated Into Gertrude's Voice, 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.

Modern" Poetry Is, Essentially, An Extension Of Romanticism; It Is What Romantic Poetry Wishes Or Finds It Necessary To Become. It Is The End Product Of Romanticism, All Past And No Future; It Is Impossible To Go Further By Any Extrapolation Of The Process By Which We Have Arrived, And Certainly It Is Impossible To Remain Where We Are Who Could Endure A Century Of Transition ?

One Whitman Is Miracle Enough, And When He Comes Again It Will Be The End Of The World.

Kenneth Burke Calls Form The Satisfaction Of An Expectation; The Man Who Loved Children Is Full Of Such Satisfactions, But It Has A Good Deal Of The Deliberate Disappointment Of An Expectation That Is Also Form.

A Poem Is, So To Speak, A Way Of Making You Forget How You Wrote It.