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Perhaps the truth depends on a walk around the lake.
Wallace Stevens
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Wallace Stevens
Age: 75 †
Born: 1879
Born: October 2
Died: 1955
Died: August 2
Journalist
Lawyer
Playwright
Poet
Poet Lawyer
Writer
Environment
Lake
Around
Hiking
Truth
Lakes
Walking
Depends
Walk
Perhaps
Trekking
Walks
Strolling
More quotes by Wallace Stevens
It is the sun that shares our works. The moon shares nothing. It is a sea.
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New York is a field of tireless and antagonistic interests undoubtedly fascinating but horribly unreal. Everybody is looking at everybody else a foolish crowd walking on mirrors.
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One must read poetry with one's nerves.
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Throw away the light, the definitions, and say what you see in the dark.
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Nothing could be more inappropriate to American literature than its English source since the Americans are not British in sensibility.
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Yet there is no spring in Florida, neither in boskage perdu, nor on the nunnery beaches.
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Reality is a cliché from which we escape by metaphor.
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All poetry is experimental poetry.
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A diary is more or less the work of a man of clay whose hands are clumsy and in whose eyes there is no light.
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I still feel the need of some imperishable bliss.
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The life of the city never lets you go, nor do you ever want it to.
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Death is the mother of beauty. Only the perishable can be beautiful, which is why we are unmoved by artificial flowers.
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Our bloom is gone. We are the fruit thereof.
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I know noble accents And lucid, inescapable rhythms But I know, too, That the blackbird is involved In what I know.
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What's down below is in the past Like last night's crickets, far below.
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If poetry should address itself to the same needs and aspirations, the same hopes and fears, to which the Bible addresses itself, it might rival it in distribution.
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A pear should come to the table popped with juice, Ripened in warmth and served in warmth. On terms Like these, autumn beguiles the fatalist.
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You like it under the trees in autumn, because everything is half dead. The wind moves like a cripple among the leaves and repeats words without menaing.
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Anything is beautiful if you say it is.
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Cold is our element and winter's air Brings voices as of lions coming down.
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