77 ordspråk av William Carlos Williams
William Carlos Williams
Hold back the edges of your gowns, Ladies, we are going through hell.
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I am lonely, lonely.
I was born to be lonely,
I am best so!
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I am lonely, lonely. I was born to be lonely, I am best so!
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I cannot say that I have gone to hell for your love but often found myself there in your pursuit
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I feel the caress of my own fingers on my own neck as I place my collar and think pityingly of the kind women I have known.
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I have discovered that most of the beauties of travel are due to the strange hours we keep to see them. . . .
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I have had my dream -- like others -- and it has come to nothing, so that I remain now carelessly with feet planted on the ground and look up at the sky.
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I think all writing is a disease. You can't stop it.
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I wanted to write a poem that you would understand. For what good is it to me if you can't understand it?
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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.
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If they give you lined paper, write the other way.
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If you can bring nothing to this place but your carcass, keep out.
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In summer, the song sings itself.
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In the imagination, we are from henceforth (so long as you read) locked in a fraternal embrace, the classic caress of author and reader.
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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.
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