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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!
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
Light
Blank
Forked
Body
Accident
Furrowed
Accidents
Stained
Ideas
Trees
Preconceptions
Nothing
Tree
Split
Things
Secret
Splits
Faces
Bent
Creased
House
Houses
Preconception
More quotes by William Carlos Williams
the set pieces of your faces stir me - leading citizens - but not in the same way.
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Poets are damned but they are not blind, they see with the eyes of angels.
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But the sea which no one tends is also a garden
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The perfect type of the man of action is the suicide.
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It's the anarchy of poverty delights me, the old yellow wooden house indented among the new brick tenements
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and there grows in the mind a scent, it may be, of locust blossoms whose perfume is itself a wind moving to lead the mind away.
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One by one the objects are defined? It quickens: clarity, outline of leaf But now the stark dignity of entrance?Still, the profound change has come upon them: rooted, they grip down and begin to awaken.
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A profusion of pink roses being ragged in the rain speaks to me of all gentleness and its enduring.
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Poe gives the sense for the first time in America, that literature is serious, not a matter of courtesy but of truth.
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A new music is a new mind.
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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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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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we, in that instant, lost, breathless to be witnesses, as if we stood ourselves refreshed among the shining fauna of that fire.
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Most of the beauties of travel are due to the strange hours we keep to see them
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The pure products of America go crazy
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The weight of love Has buoyed me up Till my head Knocks against the sky.
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Dissonance / (if you are interested) / leads to discovery.
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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?
William Carlos Williams
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.
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The better work men do is always done under stress and at great personal cost.
William Carlos Williams
