the whole field is a white desire, empty, a single stem; a cluster, flower by flower, a pious wish to whiteness gone over? or nothing. (William Carlos Williams (1883-1963), U.S. poet. Queen-Ann's-Lace (l. 17-21). . . Norton Anthology of Poetry, The. Alexander W. Allison and others, eds. (3d ed., 1983) W. W. Norton & Company.)

Which shore? Agh, petals maybe. How should I know? Which shore? Which shore? I said petals from an appletree. (William Carlos Williams (1883-1963), U.S. poet. Portrait of a Lady (l. 18-22). . . Oxford Book of American Verse, The. F. O. Matthiessen, ed. (1950) Oxford University Press.)

Your thighs are appletrees whose blossoms touch the sky. Which sky? The sky where Watteau hung a lady's slipper. (William Carlos Williams (1883-1963), U.S. poet. Portrait of a Lady (l. 1-5). . . Oxford Book of American Verse, The. F. O. Matthiessen, ed. (1950) Oxford University Press.)

Say it! No ideas but in things. (William Carlos Williams (1883-1963), U.S. poet. repr. In Collected Earlier Poems (1966). Paterson, bk. 1, "The Delineaments of the Giants," sct. 1 (1946, rev. 1963). Williams' poetic dictum?to present the subject concretely, without literary artifice?was influential on the Beat writers, notably Allen Ginsberg.)

Sunshine of late afternoon? On the glass tray a glass pitcher, the tumbler turned down, by which a key is lying?And the immaculate white bed (William Carlos Williams (1883-1963), U.S. poet. Nantucket (l. 5-10). . . Oxford Book of American Verse, The. F. O. Matthiessen, ed. (1950) Oxford University Press.)

It is dangerous to leave written that which is badly written. A chance word, upon paper, may destroy the world. Watch carefully and erase, while the power is still yours, I say to myself, for all that is put down, once it escapes, may rot its way into a thousand minds, the corn become a black smut, and all libraries, of necessity, be burned to the ground as a consequence. Only one answer: write carelessly so that nothing that is not green will survive. (William Carlos Williams (1883-1963), U.S. poet. Paterson, bk. 3, "The Library," sct. 3 (1949, rev. 1963).)

这是我,一只麻雀。我id my best; farewell. (William Carlos Williams (1883-1963), U.S. poet. The Sparrow (l. 136-139). . . The Collected Poems of William Carlos Williams; Vol. 2, 1909-1939. A. Walton Litz and Christopher MacGowan, eds. (1986) New Directions.)

no little brass rollers and small easy wheels on the bottom? my townspeople what are you thinking of! A rough plain hearse then with gilt wheels and no top at all. (William Carlos Williams (1883-1963), U.S. poet. Tract (l. 28-32). . . The Collected Poems of William Carlos Williams; Vol. 1, 1909-1939. A. Walton Litz and Christopher MacGowan, eds. (1986) New Directions.)

I begin with a design for a hearse. For Christ's sake not black? nor white either?and not polished! Let it be weathered?like a farm wagon? (William Carlos Williams (1883-1963), U.S. poet. Tract (l. 8-11). . . The Collected Poems of William Carlos Williams; Vol. 1, 1909-1939. A. Walton Litz and Christopher MacGowan, eds. (1986) New Directions.)

你知道吗?诗人追求的是菲尔osophers 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 Williams (1883-1963), U.S. poet. Letter, January 14, 1944, to James Laughlin. William Carlos Williams and James LaughlinSelected letters, ed. H. Witemeyer (1989).)