Author: Robert Lowell

Cited by

• Kaye Gibbons (1)
  • IN: On the Occasion of My Last Afternoon (1998) Ficiton, American
    EPIGRAPH: Shaw's father wanted no monument except the ditch where his son's body was thrown and lost with his "niggers" The ditch is nearer, There are no statues for the last war here; on Boylston Street, a commercial photograph shows Hiroshima boiling Over a Mosler Safe, the "Rock of Ages" that survived the blast, Space is nearer. When I crouch to my television set, the drained faces of negro school-children rise like balloons
    FROM: For the Union Dead, (1964), Poem, US
• Jeanette Winterson (1)
  • IN: The Gap of Time (2015) Fiction, British
    EPIGRAPH: Past fifty, we learn with surprise and a sense of suicidal absolution that what we intended and failed could never have happened -- and must be done better.
    FROM: For Sheridan, (1977), Poem, US
• Brady Udall (1)
  • IN: The Lonely Polygamist (2011) Fiction, American
    EPIGRAPH: Our end drifts nearer, the moon lifts, radiant with terror. The state is a diver under a glass bell. A father's no shield for his child.
    FROM: "Fall 1961", (1961), Poem, US
• Thomas O' Malley & Douglas Graham Purdy (1)
  • IN: Serpents in the Cold (2015) Fiction, American
    EPIGRAPH: In Boston serpents whistle at the cold.
    FROM: Where the Rainbow Ends, (1947), Poem, US
• Stewart O' Nan (1)
  • IN: Snow Angels (1994) Fiction, American
    EPIGRAPH: Nothing is deader than this small town main street, where the venerable elm sickens, and hardens with tarred cement, where no leaf is born, or falls, or resists till winter. But I remember its former fertility, how everything came out clearly in the hour of credulity and young summer, when this street was already somewhat overshaded, and here at the altar of surrender, i met you, the death of thirst in my brief flesh.
    FROM: NULL, (None), NULL, US
• Joan Didion (1)
  • IN: Run River (1963) Fiction, American
    EPIGRAPH: All night I've held your hand, as if you had a fourth time faced the kingdom of the mad -- its hackneyed speech, its homicidal eye -- and dragged me home alive...
    FROM: Man and Wife, (1959), Poem, US