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What power has love but forgiveness? In other words by its intervention what has been done can be undone. What good is it otherwise?
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
Intervention
Forgiveness
Otherwise
Words
Power
Done
Good
Love
Undone
More quotes by William Carlos Williams
It is not what you say that matters but the manner in which you say it there lies the secret of the ages.
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A new music is a new mind.
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I pick the hair from her eyes and watch her misery with compassion.
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I think these days when there is so little to believe in——when the old loyalties——God, country, and the hope of Heaven——aren't very real, we are more dependent than we should be on our friends. The only thing left to believe in——someone who seems beautiful.
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Being an art form, verse cannot be free in the sense of having no limitations or guiding principle.
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The pure products of America go crazy
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The descent beckons as the ascent beckoned
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And yet one arrives somehow, finds himself loosening the hooks of her dress in a strange bedroom-- feels the autumn dropping its silk and linen leaves about her ankles. The tawdry veined body emerges twisted upon itself like a winter wind.
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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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That which is possible is inevitable.
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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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My surface is myself. Under which to witness, youth is buried. Roots? Everybody has roots.
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I think of the poetry of René Char and all he must have seen and suffered that has brought him to speak only of sedgy rivers, of daffodils and tulips whose roots they water, even to the free-flowing river that laves the rootlets of those sweet-scented flowers that people the milky way
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But time in only another liar, so go along the wall a little further: if blackberries prove bitter there'll be mushrooms, fairy-ring mushrooms in the grass, sweetest of all fungi.
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Love is unworldly and nothing comes of it but love.
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Sorrow is my own yard where the new grass flames as it has flamed often before but not with the cold fire that closes round me this year.
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So different, this man And this woman: A stream flowing In a field.
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Man has survived hitherto because he was too ignorant to know how to realise his wishes- Now that he can realise them, he must either change them or perish
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The poem is a capsule where we wrap up our punishable secrets.
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You have the chicken, the hen, and the rooster. The chicken goes with the hen So who is having sex with the rooster?
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