Quote

For the listener, who listens in the snow, / And, nothing himself, beholds / Nothing that is not there and the nothing that is.

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
Beholds
Listens
Listener
Listeners
Snow
Nothing

More quotes by Wallace Stevens

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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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We must endure our thoughts all night, until the bright obvious stands motionless in the cold.
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We say This changes and that changes. Thus the constant Violets, doves, girls, bees and hyacinths Are inconstant objects of inconstant cause In a universe of inconstancy.
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Poetry is poetry, and one's objective as a poet is to achieve poetry precisely as one's objective in music is to achieve music.
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What is there in life except one's ideas, Good air, good friend, what is there in life?
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The mind can never be satisfied.
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...after a night spent writing poetry, one is almost happy to hear the milkman at the door.
Wallace Stevens
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Poetry is a finikin thing of air That lives uncertainly and not for long Yet radiantly beyond much lustier blurs.
Wallace Stevens
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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.
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The imagination is the power that enables us to perceive the normal in the abnormal, the opposite of chaos in chaos.
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It is the sun that shares our works. The moon shares nothing. It is a sea.
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The point of vision and desire are the same.
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The yellow glistens. It glistens with various yellows, Citrons, oranges and greens Flowering over the skin.
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Soldier, there is a war between the mind And sky, between thought and day and night. It is For that the poet is always in the sun, Patches the moon together in his room To his Virgilian cadences, up down, Up down. It is a war that never ends.
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The physical world is meaningless tonight And there is no other.
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Cold is our element and winter's air Brings voices as of lions coming down.
Wallace Stevens
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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.
Wallace Stevens
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Unfortunately there is nothing more inane than an Easter carol. It is a religious perversion of the activity of Spring in our blood.
Wallace Stevens
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Above the forest of the parakeets, A parakeet of parakeets prevails, A pip of life amid a mort of tails.
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It is the belief and not the god that counts.
Wallace Stevens