I think of the poetry of René Char and all he must have seen and suffered that has brought him to speak… — William Carlos Williams Copy Share Image
No wreaths please - especially no hothouse flowers. Some common memento is better, something he prized and is known by: his old… — William Carlos Williams Copy Share Image
Let the snake wait under his weed and the writing be of words, slow and quick, sharp to strike, quiet to wait,… — William Carlos Williams Copy Share Image
Somewhere the sense makes copper roses steel roses — The rose carried weight of love but love is at an end —… — William Carlos Williams Copy Share Image
Compose. (No ideas but in things) Invent! Saxifrage is my flower that splits the rocks. — William Carlos Williams Copy Share Image
A profusion of pink roses being ragged in the rain speaks to me of all gentleness and its enduring. — 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
