William Williams
William Williams
caress neck women
I feel the caress of my own fingerson my own neck as I place my collarand think pityinglyof the kind women I have known.
gentleness pink ragged rain roses speaks
A profusion of pink roses being ragged in the rain speaks to me of all gentleness and its enduring.
dating herself lover woman
No woman is virtuous, who does not give herself to her lover
face gently oh smiled
You slapped my face Oh but so gently I smiled At the caress.
dream feet others remain
I have had my dream -- like others --and it has come to nothing, so thatI remain now carelesslywith feet planted on the groundand look up at the sky.
grateful love moved saw
It was the love of love,the love that swallows up all else,a grateful love,a love of nature, of people,of animals,a love engenderinggentleness and goodnessthat moved meand that I saw in you.
disease stop
I think all writing is a disease. You can't stop it.
branches hang leaves tale winter
Some leaves hang late, some fallbefore the first frost--so goesthe tale of winter branches and old bones.
branches fall goes hang leaves tale winter
Some leaves hang late, some fall before the first frost--so goes the tale of winter branches and old bones.
history stay
History must stay open, it is all humanity.
completed imagination life valuable
Life is valuable -- when completed by the imagination. And then only.
surface youth
My surface is myself.Under whichto witness, youth isburied. Roots?Everybody has roots.
gently
You slapped my faceOh but so gently I smiledAt the caress.
array art becomes cling close detail devil difficulty direct eternally finality good imagination knowing lie lifting modern natural scientific scrutiny senses sets stands thus value virtual walking works
But the thing that stands eternally in the way of really good writing is always one: the virtual impossibility of lifting to the imagination those things which lie under the direct scrutiny of the senses, close to the nose. It is this difficulty that sets a value upon all works of art and makes them a necessity. The senses witnessing what is immediately before them in detail see a finality which they cling to in despair, not knowing which way to turn. Thus this so-called natural or scientific array becomes fixed, the walking devil of modern life.