Their time past, pulled down cracked and flung to the fire Mgo up in a roar All recognition lost, burnt clean clean in the flame, the green dispersed, — William Carlos Williams Copy Share
These are the desolate, dark weeks when nature in its barrenness equals the stupidity of man. — 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
