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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.
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
Lead
Whose
Wind
Grows
Moving
Locust
Away
Blossoms
May
Perfume
Mind
Scent
More quotes by William Carlos Williams
O Marvelous! What new configuration will come next? I am bewildered with multiplicity.
William Carlos Williams
Love is unworldly and nothing comes of it but love.
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
The only human value of anything, writing included, is intense vision of the facts.
William Carlos Williams
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
The pure products of America go crazy
William Carlos Williams
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
By listening to his language of his locality the poet begins to learn his craft. It is his function to lift, by use of imagination and the language he hears, the material conditions and appearances of his environment to the sphere of the intelligence where they will have new currency.
William Carlos Williams
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.
William Carlos Williams
I pick the hair from her eyes and watch her misery with compassion.
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
Most of the beauties of travel are due to the strange hours we keep to see them
William Carlos Williams
If it ain't a pleasure, it ain't a poem.
William Carlos Williams
all to no end save beauty the eternal-- So in detail they, the crowd, are beautiful
William Carlos Williams
Sunshine of late afternoon-- On the glass tray a glass pitcher, the tumbler turned down, by which a key is lying--And the immaculate white bed
William Carlos Williams
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.
William Carlos Williams
Who isn't frustrated and does not prove it by his actions - if you want to say so? But through art the psychologically maimed may become the most distinguished man of his age. Take Freud for instance.
William Carlos Williams
To refine, to clarify, to intensify that eternal moment in which we alone live there is but a single force the imagination.
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
A new music is a new mind.
William Carlos Williams
