You lethargic, waiting upon me, waiting for the fire and I attendant upon you, shaken by your beauty Shaken by your beauty Shaken.
William Carlos WilliamsWriting is not a searching about in the daily experience for apt similes and pretty thoughts and imagesโฆ It is not a conscious recording of the dayโs experiences โfreshly and with the appearance of realityโโฆ The writer of imagination would find himself released from observing things for the purpose of writing them down later. He would be there to enjoy, to taste, to engage the free world, not a world which he carries like a bag of food, always fearful lest he drop something or someone get more than he.
William Carlos WilliamsMy first poem was a bolt from the blue โฆ it broke a spell of disillusion and suicidal despondence. ... it filled me with soul satisfying joy.
William Carlos WilliamsNo 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