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Imagination though it cannot wipe out the sting of remorse can instruct the mind in its proper uses.
William Carlos Williams
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William Carlos Williams
Age: 79 †
Born: 1883
Born: September 17
Died: 1963
Died: March 4
Autobiographer
Literary Critic
Physician
Physician Writer
Poet
Writer
Cannot
Sting
Mind
Remorse
Wipe
Uses
Proper
Imagination
Though
Use
Instruct
More quotes by William Carlos Williams
Say it, no ideas but in things - nothing but the blank faces of the houses and cylindrical trees bent, forked by preconception and accident - split, furrowed, creased, mottled, stained - secret - into the body of the light!
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It is not fair to be old, to put on a brown sweater.
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Poetry demands a different material than prose. It uses another facet of the same fact... the spontaneous conformation of language as it is heard.
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The instant trivial as it is is all we have unless-unless things the imagination feeds upon, the scent of the rose, startle us anew.
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As the rain falls so does your love bathe every open object of the world
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Time is a storm in which we are all lost.
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beauty’ is related not to ‘loveliness’ but to a state in which reality plays a part.
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I think all writing is a disease. You can't stop it.
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So different, this man And this woman: A stream flowing In a field.
William Carlos Williams
the set pieces of your faces stir me - leading citizens - but not in the same way.
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Dissonance / (if you are interested) / leads to discovery.
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Sure love is cruel and selfish and totally obtuse-- at least, blinded by the light, young love is.
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For the beginning is assuredly the end- since we know nothing, pure and simple, beyond our own complexities.
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Sunshine of late afternoon-- On the glass tray a glass pitcher, the tumbler turned down, by which a key is lying--And the immaculate white bed
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You lethargic, waiting upon me, waiting for the fire and I attendant upon you, shaken by your beauty Shaken by your beauty Shaken.
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Remorse is a virtue in that it is a stirrer up of the emotions but it is a folly to accept it is a criticism of conduct.
William Carlos Williams
My surface is myself. Under which to witness, youth is buried. Roots? Everybody has roots.
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No opinion can be trusted even the facts may be nothing but a printer's error.
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Compose. (No ideas but in things) Invent! Saxifrage is my flower that splits the rocks.
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In summer, the song sings itself.
William Carlos Williams
