Showing posts with label memoir. Show all posts
Showing posts with label memoir. Show all posts
6.04.2025
3.03.2020
10.15.2019
3.05.2017
10.05.2014
intermittent narrator
The journal is only the form of memoir I can abide, being piecemeal, fragmentary, sequential only in fits & starts, like life.
12.26.2013
5.30.2012
noble sentences
He [Carl Sandburg] worked for ten years on the Lincoln book. I know that at the end there was a kind of desperation that something might come between himself and getting it done. You can understand if you knew the labor of it. For example, Lincoln was assassinated on a Friday night and he read 300 American sermons delivered the following Sunday—just to search into how the country felt. So you can see behind each sentence in that Lincoln book there was search, search, testing for accuracy and truth into the past then distilling all that chaotic ocean into clear, musical, noble sentences.
Another letter says: “I have reached 2 o’clock in afternoon of Lincoln’s last day…”
—Brenda Ueland, “Carl Sandburg,” Strength To Your Sword Arm: Selected Writings (Holy Cow! Press, 1993)
Another letter says: “I have reached 2 o’clock in afternoon of Lincoln’s last day…”
—Brenda Ueland, “Carl Sandburg,” Strength To Your Sword Arm: Selected Writings (Holy Cow! Press, 1993)
Labels:
abraham lincoln,
accuracy,
brenda ueland,
carl sandburg,
finish,
labor,
memoir,
quote,
search,
sentences,
sermon,
truth
5.03.2011
memoir broken into lines
Apparently you believe your narrative history merits my attention, but I come to poetry for more than memoir broken into lines.
Labels:
lines,
memoir,
narrative,
personal history
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