You lingering sparse leaves of me | Walt Whitman


Roberto Bolaño’s manuscript map for his novel The Third Reich



“Those involved. Wyatt — A painter” — William Gaddis’s autograph notes for The Recognitions


More great stuff from Washington University’s Modern Literature Collection.


“The way hope builds his house” — Emily Dickinson (Manuscript)


Manuscript Diary Entry — Charlotte Brontë

Emily Dickinson’s Handwritten Manuscript for “Because I could not stop for Death”

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From the Emily Dickinson Archive.

Manuscript Page of Faulkner’s As I Lay Dying


Christina Rossetti’s Manuscript for “Sirs, Ye Are Brethren”



Manuscript Page of Dostoevsky’s Demons (With Doodles)


Walt Whitman’s Handwritten Drafts of “Come, said my Soul”



Illustrated Manuscript Page from Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings

tolkien manuscript

Percy Bysshe Shelley’s Manuscript for “Ozymiandias”

shelley manuscript

“Ozymandias” by Percy Shelley—

I met a traveller from an antique land,
Who said — “two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert … near them, on the sand,
Half sunk a shattered visage lies, whose frown,
And wrinkled lips, and sneer of cold command,
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed;
And on the pedestal these words appear:
My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings,
Look on my Works ye Mighty, and despair!
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal Wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away.” —



Handwritten Manuscript Page from Mark Twain’s Pudd’nhead Wilson



F. Scott Fitzgerald’s Handwritten Manuscript for the First Page of Gatsby

gatsby manuscript


Robert Frost’s Handwritten Manuscript for “Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening”


Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound’s the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

Document via the Library of Congress.

T.S. Eliot’s Handwritten Manuscript for “Virginia”


Red river, red river,
Slow flow heat is silence
No will is still as a river
Still. Will heat move
Only through the mocking-bird
Heard once? Still hills
Wait. Gates wait. Purple trees,
White trees, wait, wait,
Delay, decay. Living, living,
Never moving. Ever moving
Iron thoughts came with me
And go with me:
Red river, river, river.



Letter and Corrected Reprint of Walt Whitman’s “O Captain, My Captain” with Comments by Author