June 29, 1613 The Globe Theatre catches fire and burns to
the ground during a performance of Shakespeare’s Henry VIII.
June 29, 1861 Elizabeth Barrett Browning dies at home in
Florence at the age of 55.
June 30, 1955 James Thurber writes to the New York Post of the ravages of ages: “With sixty
staring me in the face, I have developed inflammation of the sentence structure
and a definite hardening of the paragraphs.”
July 2, 1961 The winner of the 1954 Nobel Prize for
Literature, Ernest Hemingway, dies of a self-inflicted gunshot wound. Describing how he worked: “When I have an
idea, I turn down the flame, as if it were a little alcohol stove, as low as it
will go. Then it explodes and that is my
idea.”
July 4, 1845 Henry David Thoreau begins his 26-month stay
at Walden Pond: “I went to the woods because I wished to…see if I could not
learn what it [life] had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I
had not lived.”
July 4, 1855 Walt Whitman, 36, publishes Leaves of Grass at his own expense. The book does not sell.
Sharon Olds reminds us: “Walt Whitman didn’t sing
only as a white man or a gay man. He
didn’t even sing as a living man, as opposed to a dead man. He made the human race look like a better
idea.
July 8, 1822 Percy Bysshe Shelley, 29, drowns while
sailing off Viareggio and is cremated on the beach onto which his body is
washed. Strangely, his heart will not
burn. Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley
carries it with her in a silken shroud for the rest of her life.
July 10, 1871 Marcel Proust is born in Auteuil, outside
Paris, during the turbulent summer of the Paris Commune. He later will blame his persistent bad health
on his mother’s nervousness caused by street violence during her pregnancy.
July 10, 1873 Following an angry quarrel in Brussels, Paul
Verlaine discharges a pistol at Arthur Rimbaud, wounding him slightly in the
wrist.
You know, you don’t always have a choice of what
you’re going to write. You’re not like a
cow that can give cream with one udder and milk with another. Bruce
Duffy
Writing is so difficult that I often feel that
writers, having had their hell on earth, will escape all punishment
hereafter. Jessamyn West
I am not a writer except when I write. Juan
Carlos Onetti
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