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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
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Playwright
Poet
Poet Lawyer
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Beholds
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Snow
Nothing
More quotes by Wallace Stevens
My tribute to mystical, magical trees that the Cherokee called standing people. . . .
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Money is a kind of poetry.
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The summer night is like a perfection of thought.
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The reason can give nothing at all Like the response to desire.
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.
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The whole race is a poet that writes down / The eccentric propositions of its fate.
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Death is the mother of Beauty hence from her, alone, shall come fulfillment to our dreams and our desires.
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Next to love is the desire for love.
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The grackles sing avant the spring Most spiss oh! Yes, most spissantly. They sing right puissantly.
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Throw away the light, the definitions, and say what you see in the dark.
Wallace Stevens
I am the angel of Reality, Seen for a moment standing in the door.
Wallace Stevens
All poetry is experimental poetry.
Wallace Stevens
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
To lose sensibility, to see what one sees, As if sight had not its own miraculous thrift, To hear only what one hears, one meaning alone, As if the paradise of meaning ceased To be paradise, it is this to be destitute.
Wallace Stevens
It is the sea that whitens the roof. The sea drifts through the winter air. It is the sea that the north wind makes. The sea is in the falling snow.
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The mind is the terriblest force in the world, father, Because, in chief, it, only, can defend Against itself. At its mercy, we depend Upon it.
Wallace Stevens
The purpose of poetry is to make life complete in itself.
Wallace Stevens
It is never the thing but the version of the thing.
Wallace Stevens
It may be that the ignorant man, alone, Has any chance to mate his life with life That is the sensual, pearly spouse, the life That is fluent in even the wintriest bronze.
Wallace Stevens
Words of the world are the life of the world.
Wallace Stevens
