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A poem is a small machine made out of words.
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
Poem
Machine
Machines
Small
Words
Made
More quotes by William Carlos Williams
we, in that instant, lost, breathless to be witnesses, as if we stood ourselves refreshed among the shining fauna of that fire.
William Carlos Williams
A poem is a small machine made of words. . .Its movement is intrinsic, undulant, a physical more than a literary character.
William Carlos Williams
Why do I write today? The beauty of the terrible faces of our nonentities stirs me to it: colored women day workers- old and experienced- returning home at dusk, in cast off clothing faces like old Florentine oak.
William Carlos Williams
No ideas but in things.
William Carlos Williams
Most of the beauties of travel are due to the strange hours we keep to see them
William Carlos Williams
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.
William Carlos Williams
If it ain't a pleasure, it ain't a poem.
William Carlos Williams
Love is a young green willow shimmering at the bare wood's edge
William Carlos Williams
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
William Carlos Williams
Imagination though it cannot wipe out the sting of remorse can instruct the mind in its proper uses.
William Carlos Williams
The perfect type of the man of action is the suicide.
William Carlos Williams
The War is the first and only thing in the world today. The arts generally are not, nor is this writing a diversion from that for relief, a turning away. It is the war or part of it, merely a different sector of the field.
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.
William Carlos Williams
I pick the hair from her eyes and watch her misery with compassion.
William Carlos Williams
All women are not Helen, I know that, but have Helen in their hearts.
William Carlos Williams
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.
William Carlos Williams
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
all to no end save beauty the eternal-- So in detail they, the crowd, are beautiful
William Carlos Williams
Everyone in this life is defeated but a man, if he be a man, is not defeated.
William Carlos Williams
Liquor and love rescue the cloudy sense banish its despair give it a home.
William Carlos Williams
