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THESE are the desolate, dark weeks when nature in its barrenness equals the stupidity of man. The year plunges into night and the heart plunges lower than night.
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
Dark
Desolate
Night
Plunge
Nature
Equals
Heart
Lower
Years
Weeks
Men
Stupidity
Week
Barrenness
Year
Plunges
More quotes by William Carlos Williams
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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Being an art form, verse cannot be free in the sense of having no limitations or guiding principle.
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Divorce is the sign of knowledge in our time.
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Lifeless in appearance, sluggish dazed spring approaches They enter the new world naked, cold, uncertain of all save that they enter.
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A new music is a new mind.
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No ideas but in things.
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The descent beckons as the ascent beckoned
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Love is unworldly and nothing comes of it but love.
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Poets are being pursued by the philosophers today, out of the poverty of philosophy. God damn it, you might think a man had no business to be writing, to be a poet unless some philosophic stinker gave him permission.
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For there is a wind or a ghost of wind in all books echoing the life there, a high wind that fills the tubes of the ear until we think we hear a wind, actual.
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The pure products of America go crazy--mountain folk from Kentucky or the ribbed north end of Jersey with its isolate lakes and valleys, its deaf-mutes, thieves.
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Among the rain and lights I saw the figure 5 in gold on a red firetruck moving tense unheeded to gong clangs siren howls and wheels rumbling through the dark city.
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I'll write whatever I damn please, whenever I damn please and as I damn please and it'll be good if the authentic spirit of change is on it.
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Covertly the hands of a great clock go round and round! Were they to move quickly and at once the whole secret would be out and the shuffling of all ants be done forever.
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It's a strange courage you give me ancient star: Shine alone in the sunrise toward which you lend no part!
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through metaphor to reconcile the people and the stones.
William Carlos Williams
If it ain't a pleasure, it ain't a poem.
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It is difficult to get the news from poetry, yet men die miserably every day for lack of what is found there.
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There is nothing beginning nor end to the imagination but it delights in its own seasons reversing the usual order at will.
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I will teach you my townspeople how to perform a funeral for you have it over a troop of artists unless one should scour the world you have the ground sense necessary.
William Carlos Williams
