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It is difficult to get the news from poems, yet men die miserably every day for lack of what is found there.
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
Men
Poems
Lack
Poetry
News
Dies
Difficult
Found
Every
Miserably
More quotes by William Carlos Williams
The American idiom has much to offer us that the English language has never heard of
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Divorce is the sign of knowledge in our time.
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The Moon, the dried weeds and the Pleiades - Seven feet tall the dark, dried weed stalks make a part of the night a red lace on the milky blue sky
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Poets are damned but they are not blind, they see with the eyes of angels.
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As birds' wings beat the solid air without which none could fly so words freed by the imagination affirm reality by their flight.
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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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Hell take curtains! Go with some show of inconvenience sit openly - to the weather as to grief. Or do you think you can shut your grief in?
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The pure products of America go crazy
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all to no end save beauty the eternal-- So in detail they, the crowd, are beautiful
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the set pieces of your faces stir me - leading citizens - but not in the same way.
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Somewhere the sense makes copper roses steel roses — The rose carried weight of love but love is at an end — of roses It is at the edge of the petal that love waits.
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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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Minds like beds always made up (more stony than a shore) unwilling or unable.
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Nothing whips my blood like verse.
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The poem is a capsule where we wrap up our punishable secrets.
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History, history! We fools, what do we know or care.
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My first poem was a bolt from the blue … it broke a spell of disillusion and suicidal despondence. ... it filled me with soul satisfying joy.
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My surface is myself. Under which to witness, youth is buried. Roots? Everybody has roots.
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To refine, to clarify, to intensify that eternal moment in which we alone live there is but a single force the imagination.
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The better work men do is always done under stress and at great personal cost.
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