“I am very fond, myself, of the writers who came out of the Middle West round about the beginning of the First World War. All the stale literary guidebook phrases aside, the honest ruggedness; the ‘pioneering vitality’, the ‘earthy humour’, the ‘undying folk tradition’, etcetera,—the hicktown radicals and iconoclasts, the sports journalists, the contributors to Reedy’s Mirror, the drinking, noisy Chicago preachers and atheists and ballad singers and shabby professional men, did bring something rough and good into the language that was dying on its feet, and not on its own feet, either.”  – Dylan Thomas


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