Poets are damned but they are not blind, they see with the eyes of angels. — William Carlos Williams Copy Share Image
We sit and talk quietly, with long lapses of silence, and I am aware of the stream that has no language, coursing… — William Carlos Williams Copy Share Image
I pick the hair from her eyes and watch her misery with compassion. — William Carlos Williams Copy Share Image
“unsignificantly off the coast there was a splash quite unnoticed this was Icarus drowning” — William Carlos Williams Copy Share Image
“You're a romanticist. What do you think a man is, a papaya? To digest your dinner? In pill form?” — William Carlos Williams Copy Share Image
Imagination though it cannot wipe out the sting of remorse can instruct the mind in its proper uses. — William Carlos Williams Copy Share Image
A poem is this:/A nuance of sound/delicately operating/upon a cataract of sense/...the particulars/of a song waking/upon a bed of sound. — William Carlos Williams Copy Share Image
