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It is the unknown that excites the ardor of scholars, who, in the known alone, would shrivel up with boredom.

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
Known
Shrivel
Would
Ardor
Excites
Scholars
Scholar
Boredom
Unknown
Alone

More quotes by Wallace Stevens

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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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Everybody is looking at everybody else a foolish crowd walking on mirrors.
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Life is not free from its forms.
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The summer night is like a perfection of thought.
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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 soul, O ganders, flies beyond the parks And far beyond the discords of the wind.
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If ever the search for a tranquil belief should end, The future might stop emerging out of the past, Out of what is full of us yet the search And the future emerging out of us seem to be one.
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Most people read poetry listening for echoes because the echoes are familiar to them. They wade through it the way a boy wades through water, feeling with his toes for the bottom: The echoes are the bottom.
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The philosopher proves that the philosopher exists. The poet merely enjoys existence.
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Why should she give her bounty to the dead? What is divinity if it can come Only in silent shadows and in dreams?
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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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All poetry is experimental poetry.
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I was the world in which I walked.
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The subject matter... is not that collection of solid, static objects extended in space but the life that is lived in the scene that it composes.
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Imagination is the will of things. . . .
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A languid janitor bears His lantern through colonnades And the architecture swoons.
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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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This mangled, smutted semi-world hacked out Of dirt . . . It is not possible for the moon To blot this with its dove-winged blendings.
Wallace Stevens
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The reading of a poem should be an experience. Its writing must be all the more so.
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Life is an affair of people not of places. But for me, life is an affair of places and that is the trouble.
Wallace Stevens