Clean is he alone after whom stream the broken pieces of the city — flying apart at his approaches - William Carlos Williams

Additional quotes by William Carlos Williams

It was too strong in the air.
I had no rest against that
springtime!
The pounding of the hoofs on the
raw sods
stayed with me half through the night.
I awoke smiling but tired.

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spring

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I think all writing is a disease. You can't stop it.

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writing

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Saxifrage is my flower that splits the rocks.

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