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The final belief is to believe in a fiction, which you know to be a fiction, there being nothing else. The exquisite truth is to know that it is a fiction and that you believe in it willingly.
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
Else
Truth
Nothing
Willingly
Believe
Exquisite
Final
Finals
Fiction
Belief
More quotes by Wallace Stevens
Imagination is the will of things. . . .
Wallace Stevens
Poetry is the statement of a relation between a man and the world
Wallace Stevens
It is deep January. The sky is hard. The stalks are firmly rooted in ice.
Wallace Stevens
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?
Wallace Stevens
Time is a horse that runs in the heart, a horse Without a rider on a road at night. The mind sits listening and hears it pass.
Wallace Stevens
Poetry is a response to the daily necessity of getting the world right.
Wallace Stevens
Poetry is a finikin thing of air That lives uncertainly and not for long Yet radiantly beyond much lustier blurs.
Wallace Stevens
They said, 'You have a blue guitar, / You do not play things as they are.' / The man replied, 'Things as they are / Are changed upon the blue guitar.'
Wallace Stevens
It is never the thing but the version of the thing: The fragrance of the woman not her self, Her self in her manner not the solid block, The day in its color not perpending time, Time in its weather, our most sovereign lord, The weather in words and words in sounds of sound.
Wallace Stevens
I still feel the need of some imperishable bliss.
Wallace Stevens
Tell X that speech is not dirty silence Clarified. It is silence made still dirtier.
Wallace Stevens
What is there in life except one's ideas, Good air, good friend, what is there in life?
Wallace Stevens
The fire burns as the novel taught it how.
Wallace Stevens
Of what is real I say, Is it the old, the roseate parent or The bride come jingling, kissed and cupped, or else The spirit and all ensigns of the self?
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.
Wallace Stevens
The whole race is a poet that writes down / The eccentric propositions of its fate.
Wallace Stevens
The poet makes silk dresses out of worms.
Wallace Stevens
To name an object is to deprive a poem of three-fourths of its pleasure, which consists in a little-by-little guessing game the ideal is to suggest.
Wallace Stevens
The soul, O ganders, flies beyond the parks And far beyond the discords of the wind.
Wallace Stevens
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.
Wallace Stevens
