Quote

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.

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
Still
Defined
Entrances
Come
Profound
Outlines
Dignity
Grip
Begin
Awaken
Quickens
Objects
Leafs
Outline
Upon
Leaf
Entrance
Stills
Rooted
Starks
Change
Clarity
Stark

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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!
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If I admire my arms, my face, my shoulders, flanks, buttocks against the yellow drawn shades,-- Who shall say I am not the happy genius of my household?
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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.
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A new music is a new mind.
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Afraid lest he be caught up in a net of words, tripped up, bewildered and so defeated-thrown aside-a man hesitates to write down his innermost convictions.
William Carlos Williams
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Sometimes I find myself thinking, rather wistfully, about Lao Tzu's famous dictum: 'Govern a great nation as you would cook a small fish.' All around me I see something very different, let us say - a number of angry dwarfs trying to grill a whale.
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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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For what we cannot accomplish, what is denied to love, what we have lost in the anticipation a descent follows, endless and indestructible.
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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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For the beginning is assuredly the end- since we know nothing, pure and simple, beyond our own complexities.
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I thought my friends were damn fools, because they didn't know any better way of conducting their lives. Still they conformed better than I to a code. I wanted to conform but I couldn't so I wrote my poetry.
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A poem is a small machine made of words. . .Its movement is intrinsic, undulant, a physical more than a literary character.
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But the sea which no one tends is also a garden
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The business of love is cruelty which, by our wills, we transform to live together.
William Carlos Williams
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The weight of love Has buoyed me up Till my head Knocks against the sky.
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Old age is a flight of small cheeping birds skimming bare trees above a snow glaze.
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beauty’ is related not to ‘loveliness’ but to a state in which reality plays a part.
William Carlos Williams
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By the road to the contagious hospital under the surge of the blue mottled clouds driven from the northeast - a cold wind.
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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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The instant trivial as it is is all we have unless-unless things the imagination feeds upon, the scent of the rose, startle us anew.
William Carlos Williams