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The imagination is man's power over nature.

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
Imagination
Creative
Nature
Power
Men

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I was the world in which I walked.
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Poor, dear, silly Spring, preparing her annual surprise!
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A poet looks at the world the way a man looks at a woman.
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And what's above is in the past As sure as all the angels are.
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Frogs eat Butterflies, Snakes eat Frogs, Hogs eat Snakes, Men eat Hogs.
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Unless we believe in the hero, what is there To believe? Incisive what, the fellow Of what good. Devise. Make him of mud.
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At evening casual flocks of pigeons make Ambiguous undulations as they sink Downward to darkness, on extended wings.
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People ought to like poetry the way a child likes snow & they would if poets wrote it.
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The imagination is the liberty of the mind It is intrpeid and eager and the extreme of its achievement lies in abstraction.
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The muddy rivers of spring Are snarling Under the muddy skies. The mind is muddy.
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What is there in life except one's ideas, Good air, good friend, what is there in life?
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The leaves hop, scraping on the ground. It is deep January. The sky is hard. The stalks are firmly rooted in ice. It is in this solitude, a syllable, Out of these gawky flitterings, Intones its single emptiness, The savagest hollow of winter-sound.
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Day after day, throughout the winter, We hardened ourselves to live by bluest reason In a world of wind and frost.
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Success as a result of industry is a peasant's ideal.
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Perhaps it is of more value to infuriate philosophers than to go along with them.
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After a lustre of the moon, we say We have not the need of any paradise, We have not the need of any seducing hymn.
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Revolution Is the affair of logical lunatics.
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Style is not something applied. It is something that permeates. It is of the nature of that in which it is found, whether the poem, the manner of a god, the bearing of a man. It is not a dress.
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The death of Satan was a tragedy For the imagination.
Wallace Stevens
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One sparrow is worth a thousand gulls, When it sings. The gull sits on chimney-tops. He mocks the guinea, challenges The crow, inciting various modes. The sparrow requites one, without intent.
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