Who isn't frustrated and does not prove it by his actions - if you want to say so? But through art the psychologically maimed may become the most distinguished man of his age. Take Freud for instance. William Carlos Williams More Quotes by William Carlos Williams More Quotes From William Carlos Williams Sure William Carlos Williams selfish light love-is we, in William Carlos Williams vision shining fire Remorse is a virtue in that it is a stirrer up of the emotions but it is a folly to accept it is a criticism of conduct. William Carlos Williams virtue emotion criticism Love is that common tone shall raise his fiery head and sound his note. William Carlos Williams tone sound love-is Minds like beds always made up (more stony than a shore) unwilling or unable. William Carlos Williams bed made mind To make a start, out of particulars and make them general, rolling up the sum, by defective means Sniffing the trees, just another dog among a lot of dogs.What else is there? And to do? William Carlos Williams dog tree mean I will teach you my townspeople how to perform a funeral for you have it over a troop of artists unless one should scour the world you have the ground sense necessary. William Carlos Williams funeral artist world At our age the imagination across the sorry facts lifts us to make roses stand before thorns. Sure love is cruel and selfish and totally obtuse— at least, blinded by the light, young love is. But we are older, I to love and you to be loved, we have, no matter how, by our wills survived to keep the jeweled prize always at our finger tips. We will it so and so it is past all accident. William Carlos Williams selfish sorry love The Moon, the dried weeds and the Pleiades - Seven feet tall the dark, dried weed stalks make a part of the night a red lace on the milky blue sky William Carlos Williams weed moon dark The beauty is in the eye of the beholder. William Carlos Williams eye beautiful beauty And yet one arrives somehow, finds himself loosening the hooks of her dress in a strange bedroom-- feels the autumn dropping its silk and linen leaves about her ankles. The tawdry veined body emerges twisted upon itself like a winter wind. William Carlos Williams autumn winter wind THESE are the desolate, dark weeks when nature in its barrenness equals the stupidity of man. The year plunges into night and the heart plunges lower than night. William Carlos Williams dark heart night 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 clothes flower book O Marvelous! What new configuration will come next? I am bewildered with multiplicity. William Carlos Williams chaos complexity next 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 wind book thinking I have never been one to write by rule, not even by my own rules. William Carlos Williams my-own writing It was the love of love, the love of swallows up all else, a grateful love, a love of natural, of people, of animals, a love ingengering gentleness and goodness that moved meand that I saw in you William Carlos Williams funny-relationship grateful love the set pieces of your faces stir me - leading citizens - but not in the same way. William Carlos Williams pieces citizens way 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 faces home writing There is no thing that with a twist of the imagination cannot be something else. Porpoises risen in a green sea, the wind at nightfall bending the rose- red grasses and you- in your apron hurrying to catch- say it seems to you to be your son. How ridiculous! You will pass up into a cloud and look back at me, not count the scribbling foolish that put wings at your heels, at your knees. William Carlos Williams clouds wind son
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