Stanley Kunitz (July 29, 1905– May 14, 2006)
I used to sit in that green Morris chair and open the heavy dictionary on my lap, and find a new word every day. It was a big word, a word like eleemosynary or phantasmagoria – some word that, on the tongue, sounded great to me, and I would go out into the fields and I would shout those words, because it was so important that they sounded so great to me. And then eventually I began incorporating them into verses, into poems. But certainly my thought in the beginning was that there was so much joy playing with language that I couldn’t consider living without it.
🎂Happy Birthday Stanley Kunitz (July 29, 1905– May 14, 2006) In Memoriam🌹