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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.
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
Fields
Crowd
Walking
Fascinating
Stupid
Crowds
Everybody
Foolish
Tireless
Looking
Mirrors
Antagonistic
Interest
Interests
Horribly
Else
Field
Undoubtedly
York
Unreal
More quotes by Wallace Stevens
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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Words of the world are the life of the world.
Wallace Stevens
I certainly do not exist from nine to six, when I am at the office.
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One must read poetry with one's nerves.
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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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We must endure our thoughts all night, until the bright obvious stands motionless in the cold.
Wallace Stevens
I have said no To everything, in order to get at myself. I have wiped away moonlight like mud.
Wallace Stevens
Success as a result of industry is a peasant's ideal.
Wallace Stevens
The life of the city never lets you go, nor do you ever want it to.
Wallace Stevens
Divinity must live within herself: Passions of rain, or moods in the falling snow Grievings in loneliness, or unsubdued Elations when the forest blooms gusty Emotions on wet roads on autumn nights All pleasures and all pains, remembering The boughs of summer and the winter branch. These are the measures destined for her soul.
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A poem need not have a meaning and like most things in nature often does not have.
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The night Makes everything grotesque. Is it because Night is the nature of man's interior world?
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The reader became the book and summer night Was like the conscious being of the book.
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A violent order is disorder and a great disorder is an order. These two things are one.
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The mind is smaller than the eye.
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...after a night spent writing poetry, one is almost happy to hear the milkman at the door.
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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.
Wallace Stevens
The most beautiful thing in the world is, of course, the world itself.
Wallace Stevens
After the final no there comes a yes And on that yes the future world depends.
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I was the world in which I walked.
Wallace Stevens