Small Storyes
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Sherwood Anderson – An Apology for Crudity
For a long time I have believed that crudity is an inevitable quality in the production of a really significant…
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Sherwood Anderson – An Awakening
Belle Carpenter had a dark skin, grey eyes and thick lips. She was tall and strong. When black thoughts visited…
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Sherwood Anderson – Brothers
I am at my house in the country and it is late October. It rains. Back of my house is…
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Sherwood Anderson – Hands
HANDS, Concerning Wing Biddlebaum UPON THE HALF decayed veranda of a small frame house that stood near the edge of…
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Sherwood Anderson – I’m A Fool
It was a hard jolt for me, one of the most bitterest I ever had to face. And it all…
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Sherwood Anderson – I Want to Know Why
We got up at four in the morning, that first day in the east. On the evening before we had…
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Sherwood Anderson – Motherhood
Below the hill there was a swamp in which cattails grew. The wind rustled the dry leaves of a walnut…
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Sherwood Anderson – Seeds
He was a small man with a beard and was very nervous. I remember how the cords of his neck…
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Sherwood Anderson – Senility
He was an old man and he sat on the steps of the railroad station in a small Kentucky town.…
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Sherwood Anderson – The Door of the Trap
Winifred Walker understood some things clearly enough. She understood that when a man is put behind iron bars he is…
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