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My surface is myself. Under which to witness, youth is buried. Roots? Everybody has roots.
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
Everybody
Conformity
Buried
Witness
Surface
Roots
Youth
More quotes by William Carlos Williams
One thing I am convinced more and more is true, and that is this: The only way to be truly happy is to make others happy. When you realize that and take advantage of the fact, everything is made perfect.
William Carlos Williams
A poem is a small machine made out of words.
William Carlos Williams
Old age is a flight of small cheeping birds skimming bare trees above a snow glaze.
William Carlos Williams
It is difficult to get the news from poetry, yet men die miserably every day for lack of what is found there.
William Carlos Williams
The poem springs from the half spoken words of the patient.... When asked, how I have for so many years continued an equal interest in medicine and the poem, I reply that they amount for me to nearly the same thing.
William Carlos Williams
There's nothing sentimental about a machine, and: A poem is a small (or large) machine made of words.
William Carlos Williams
Either I exist or I do not exist, and no amount of pap which I happen to be lapping can dull me to the loss.
William Carlos Williams
What love is I don't know if it's not the response of our deepest natures to one another.
William Carlos Williams
You lethargic, waiting upon me, waiting for the fire and I attendant upon you, shaken by your beauty Shaken by your beauty Shaken.
William Carlos Williams
O frost bitten blossoms, That are unfolding your wings From out the envious black branches. Bloom quickly and make much of the sunshine. The twigs conspire against you! Hear hem! They hold you from behind.
William Carlos Williams
All women are not Helen, I know that, but have Helen in their hearts.
William Carlos Williams
No ideas but in things.
William Carlos Williams
So different, this man And this woman: A stream flowing In a field.
William Carlos Williams
What can any of us do with his talent but try to develop his vision, so that through frequent failures we may learn better what we have missed in the past.
William Carlos Williams
It is not fair to be old, to put on a brown sweater.
William Carlos Williams
Let the snake wait under his weed and the writing be of words, slow and quick, sharp to strike, quiet to wait, sleepless. - through metaphor to reconcile the people and the stones. Compose. (No ideas but in things) Invent! Saxifrage is my flower that splits the rocks.
William Carlos Williams
Being an art form, verse cannot be free in the sense of having no limitations or guiding principle.
William Carlos Williams
In summer, the song sings itself.
William Carlos Williams
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?
William Carlos Williams
We sit and talk quietly, with long lapses of silence, and I am aware of the stream that has no language, coursing beneath the quiet heaven of your eyes, which has no speech.
William Carlos Williams
