Poets are being pursued by the philosophers today, out of the poverty of philosophy. God damn it, you might think a man had no business to be writing, to be a poet unless some philosophic stinker gave him permission.
William Carlos WilliamsRead
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.
Interpretation
This quote explores intimate moments shared between lovers, juxtaposing physicality with the passage of time and change.
In this evocative quote, William Carlos Williams illustrates an intimate encounter marked by tenderness and vulnerability. The imagery of autumn leaves serves as a metaphor for change and the ephemeral nature of relationships, while the description of the body and the act of undressing suggests a raw and profound emotional connection. Together, these elements create a rich tapestry of feeling that reflects both the beauty and complexity of love.
In practice
This quote could be shared during a romantic evening to emphasize the beauty of shared intimacy.
Poets are being pursued by the philosophers today, out of the poverty of philosophy. God damn it, you might think a man had no business to be writing, to be a poet unless some philosophic stinker gave him permission.
For the beginning is assuredly the end- since we know nothing, pure and simple, beyond our own complexities.
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
O frost bitten blossoms, That are unfolding your wings From out the envious black branches. Bloom quickly and make much of the sunshine. The twigs conspire against you! Hear hem! They hold you from behind.
No opinion can be trusted; even the facts may be nothing but a printer's error.
It is almost impossible to state what one in fact believes, because it is almost impossible to hold a belief and to define it at the same time.
Come not, when I am dead, To drop thy foolish tears upon my grave, To trample round my fallen head, And vex the unhappy dust thou wouldst not save. There let the wind sweep and the plover cry; But thou, go by. Child, if it were thine error or thy crime I care no longer, being all unblest; Wed whom thou wilt, but I am sick of Time, And I desire to rest. Pass on, weak heart, and leave me where I lie: Go by, go by.
I used to say that if something happened to my mother, I wanted to die with her. That's because I loved her so much. I want to live so I can carry out the essence of what she has shown me: kindness and goodness.
But who can distinguish between falling in love and imagining falling in love? Even genuinely falling in love is an act of the imagination.
She was a mischief, and that was a satisfaction; no longer was she a huntress of corralled game
The tenderness between two people can turn the air tender, the room tender, time itself tender. As I step out of bed and slip on an oversize shirt, everything around me feels like it's the temperature of happiness.
No young lady can be justified in falling in love before the gentleman's love is declared, it must be very improper that a young lady should dream of a gentleman before the gentleman is first known to have dreamt of her.
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