1937 in Literature - Deaths

Deaths

  • February 19 - Horacio Quiroga, Uruguayan short story writer, 58 (suicide by poisoning)
  • March 15 - H. P. Lovecraft, horror writer, 46 (intestinal cancer)
  • March 25 - John Drinkwater, poet and dramatist, 54
  • May 20 - Frederic Taber Cooper, editor, 72
  • June 13 - William F. Lloyd, newspaper editor, 72
  • June 19 - J. M. Barrie, novelist and dramatist, 77
  • August 11 - Edith Wharton, writer (born 1862)
  • September 13 - Ellis Parker Butler, novelist, 67
  • September 28 - Gerald Duckworth, publisher, 67
  • October 22 - Nakahara Chuya, Japanese poet, 30 (meningitis)
  • October 31 - Ralph Connor, novelist
  • December 24 - Elizabeth Haldane, author, biographer, philosopher, suffragist, nursing administrator, and social welfare worker, 75
  • December 26 - Ivor Gurney, war poet and composer, 47 (tuberculosis)
  • December 29 - Don Marquis, poet
  • date unknown
    • Edward Garnett, critic
    • W. F. Harvey, short story writer
  • August 14 - H. C. McNeile ("Sapper"), "Bulldog Drummond" novelist, 48

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Famous quotes containing the word deaths:

    As deaths have accumulated I have begun to think of life and death as a set of balance scales. When one is young, the scale is heavily tipped toward the living. With the first death, the first consciousness of death, the counter scale begins to fall. Death by death, the scales shift weight until what was unthinkable becomes merely a matter of gravity and the fall into death becomes an easy step.
    Alison Hawthorne Deming (b. 1946)

    There is the guilt all soldiers feel for having broken the taboo against killing, a guilt as old as war itself. Add to this the soldier’s sense of shame for having fought in actions that resulted, indirectly or directly, in the deaths of civilians. Then pile on top of that an attitude of social opprobrium, an attitude that made the fighting man feel personally morally responsible for the war, and you get your proverbial walking time bomb.
    Philip Caputo (b. 1941)

    You lived too long, we have supped full with heroes,
    they waste their deaths on us.
    C.D. Andrews (1913–1992)