You can’t carry on like this, it is not right, you will find that out soon enough, everything you do matters too much,” and as he said that, dragging me through the lobby of that theatre, into the cold light, I woke up into the bleak winter morning on my twenty-first birthday, the window-sill shining with its lip of snow, and the morning already begun.
—Delmore Schwartz, from “In Dreams Begin Responsibilities”
AboutPoets think in lines, prose writers in sentences; the best of both work from sound to sense, with an ear for the music in their compositions. S for Sentence celebrates lyricism in prose, the play and craft at work in the artful sentence. We post a sentence a month along with comments by a guest writer on the craft that shapes it, on what makes it great. In one or two sentences.
—Pearl Abraham, Editor