It is not what you say that matters but the manner in which you say it; there lies the secret of the… — William Carlos Williams Copy Share Image
The poem is a capsule where we wrap up our punishable secrets. — William Carlos Williams Copy Share Image
Covertly the hands of a great clock go round and round! Were they to move quickly and at once the whole secret… — William Carlos Williams Copy Share Image
Say it, no ideas but in things - nothing but the blank faces of the houses and cylindrical trees bent, forked by… — 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
