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Poor, dear, silly Spring, preparing her annual surprise!
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
Surprise
Dear
Spring
Annuals
Poor
Annual
Nature
Springtime
April
Preparing
Silly
More quotes by Wallace Stevens
This mangled, smutted semi-world hacked out Of dirt . . . It is not possible for the moon To blot this with its dove-winged blendings.
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It is poverty's speech that seeks us out the most. It is older than the oldest speech of Rome. This is the tragic accent of the scene.
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It must be this rhapsody or none, The rhapsody of things as they are.
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Unfortunately there is nothing more inane than an Easter carol. It is a religious perversion of the activity of Spring in our blood.
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What our eyes behold may well be the text of life but one's meditations on the text and the disclosures of these meditations are no less a part of the structure of reality.
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The heavy trees, The grunting, shuffling branches, the robust, The nocturnal, the antique, the blue-green pines Deepen the feelings to inhuman depths.
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Frogs eat Butterflies, Snakes eat Frogs, Hogs eat Snakes, Men eat Hogs.
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Fat girl, terrestrial, my summer, my night, How is it I find you in difference, see you there In a moving contour, a change not quite completed? You are familiar yet an aberration.
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Poetry increases the feeling for reality.
Wallace Stevens
The belief in poetry is a magnificent fury, or it is nothing.
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I am one of you and being one of you is being and knowing what I am and know. Yet I am the necessary Angel of earth, since, in my sight, you see the earth again.
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Conceptions are artificial. Perceptions are essential.
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There may be always a time of innocence. There is never a place.
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The death of Satan was a tragedy For the imagination.
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The reason can give nothing at all Like the response to desire.
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Death is the mother of Beauty hence from her, alone, shall come fulfillment to our dreams and our desires.
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The thinker as reader reads what has been written. He wears the words he reads to look upon Within his being.
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There's no such thing as life or if there is, It is faster than the weather, faster than Any character. It is more than any scene: Of the guillotine or of any glamorous hanging.
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Metaphor creates a new reality from which the original appears to be unreal.
Wallace Stevens
Day after day, throughout the winter, We hardened ourselves to live by bluest reason In a world of wind and frost.
Wallace Stevens