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through metaphor to reconcile the people and the stones.

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
People
Reconcile
Metaphor
Stones

More quotes by William Carlos Williams

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The better work men do is always done under stress and at great personal cost.
William Carlos Williams
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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.
William Carlos Williams
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The weight of love Has buoyed me up Till my head Knocks against the sky.
William Carlos Williams
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The American idiom has much to offer us that the English language has never heard of
William Carlos Williams
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We are blind and live our blind lives out in blindness.
William Carlos Williams
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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.
William Carlos Williams
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The only realism in art is of the imagination.
William Carlos Williams
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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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The poem springs from the half spoken words of the patient.... When asked, how I have for so many years continued an equal interest in medicine and the poem, I reply that they amount for me to nearly the same thing.
William Carlos Williams
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That which is possible is inevitable.
William Carlos Williams
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Among of green stiff old bright broken branch come white sweet May again
William Carlos Williams
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Death will be too late to bring us aid.
William Carlos Williams
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Prose may carry a load of ill-defined matters like a ship. But poetry is the machine which drives it, pruned to a perfect economy.
William Carlos Williams
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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
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Shoes twisted into incredible lilies.
William Carlos Williams
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No wreaths please - especially no hothouse flowers. Some common memento is better, something he prized and is known by: his old clothes - a few books perhaps.
William Carlos Williams
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[History is] a tyranny over the souls of the dead - and so the imagination of the living.
William Carlos Williams
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Minds like beds always made up (more stony than a shore) unwilling or unable.
William Carlos Williams
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Sure love is cruel and selfish and totally obtuse-- at least, blinded by the light, young love is.
William Carlos Williams
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I have never been one to write by rule, not even by my own rules.
William Carlos Williams