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It is not everyday that the world arranges itself into a poem.

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
Arranges
Poem
Everyday
World

More quotes by Wallace Stevens

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Poetry is a means of redemption.
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Life's nonsense pierces us with strange relation.
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Poetry increases the feeling for reality.
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It's not always easy to tell the difference between thinking and looking out of the window.
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At the sight of blackbirds Flying in a green light, Even the bawds of euphony Would cry out sharply.
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The point of vision and desire are the same.
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On a few words of what is real in the world I nourish myself. I defend myself against Whatever remains.
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Fromage and coffee and cognac and no gods.
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Imagination...is the irrepressible revolutionist.
Wallace Stevens
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We live in an old chaos of the sun.
Wallace Stevens
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I placed a jar in Tennessee, And round it was, upon a hill. It made the slovenly wilderness Surround that hill.
Wallace Stevens
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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
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The winter is made and you have to bear it, The winter web, the winter woven, wind and wind, For all the thoughts of summer that go with it In the mind, pupa of straw, moppet of rags.
Wallace Stevens
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Imagination is the power of the mind over the possibilities of things.
Wallace Stevens
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Intolerance respecting other people's religion is toleration itself in comparison with intolerance respecting other people's art.
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A languid janitor bears His lantern through colonnades And the architecture swoons.
Wallace Stevens
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The night Makes everything grotesque. Is it because Night is the nature of man's interior world?
Wallace Stevens
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What is there in life except one's ideas, Good air, good friend, what is there in life?
Wallace Stevens
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If the hero is not a person, the emblem Of him, even if Xenophon, seems To stand taller than a person stands, has A wider brow, large and less human Eyes and bruted ears: the man-like body Of a primitive.
Wallace Stevens
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The wind had seized the tree and ha, and ha, It held the shivering, the shaken limbs, Then bathed its body in the leaping lake.
Wallace Stevens