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After the leaves have fallen, we return To a plain sense of things. It is as if We had come to an end of the imagination, Inanimate in an inert savoir.
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
Return
Imagination
Savoir
Fall
Inert
Sense
Inanimate
Ends
Autumn
Come
Plain
Things
Fallen
Leaves
More quotes by Wallace Stevens
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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The physical world is meaningless tonight And there is no other.
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Human nature is like water. It takes the shape of its container.
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Style is not something applied. It is something that permeates.
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Compare the silent rose of the sun And rain, the blood-rose living in its smell, With this paper, this dust. That states the point.
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the windy sky Cries out a literate despair.
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Perhaps the truth depends on a walk around the lake.
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One's ignorance is one's chief asset.
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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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Accuracy of observation is the equivalent of accuracy of thinking.
Wallace Stevens
The imagination is man's power over nature.
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Perhaps there is a degree of perception at which what is real and what is imagines are one: a state of clairvoyant observation, accessible or possibly accessible to the poet or, say, the acutest poet.
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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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What is one man among so many men? What are so many men in such a world? Can one man think one thing and think it long? Can one man be one thing and be it long?
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I am the truth, since I am part of what is real, but neither more nor less than those around me.
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Next to love is the desire for love.
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In a world of universal poverty The philosophers alone will be fat Against the autumn winds In an autumn that will be perpetual.
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The belief in poetry is a magnificent fury, or it is nothing.
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It is the imagination pressing back against the pressure of reality. It seems, in the last analysis, to have something to do with our self-preservation and that, no doubt, is why the expression of it, the sound of its words, helps us to live our lives.
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The reason can give nothing at all Like the response to desire.
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