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People ought to like poetry the way a child likes snow & they would if poets wrote it.
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
Poetry
Ought
Child
Children
Poets
Way
Snow
Would
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Wrote
People
Poet
More quotes by Wallace Stevens
It must be this rhapsody or none, The rhapsody of things as they are.
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Make the visible a little hard to see.
Wallace Stevens
The only emperor is the emperor of ice cream.
Wallace Stevens
Key West, unfortunately, is becoming rather literary and artistic.
Wallace Stevens
It is never the thing but the version of the thing.
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One must read poetry with one's nerves.
Wallace Stevens
Above the forest of the parakeets, A parakeet of parakeets prevails, A pip of life amid a mort of tails.
Wallace Stevens
The imagination is one of the forces of nature.
Wallace Stevens
The mind can never be satisfied.
Wallace Stevens
Poetry is a satifying of the desire for resemblance.
Wallace Stevens
Day after day, throughout the winter, We hardened ourselves to live by bluest reason In a world of wind and frost.
Wallace Stevens
What is there in life except one's ideas, Good air, good friend, what is there in life?
Wallace Stevens
The whole race is a poet that writes down / The eccentric propositions of its fate.
Wallace Stevens
Throw away the light, the definitions, and say what you see in the dark.
Wallace Stevens
the windy sky Cries out a literate despair.
Wallace Stevens
Tell X that speech is not dirty silence Clarified. It is silence made still dirtier.
Wallace Stevens
The day of the sun is like the day of a king. It is a promenade in the morning, a sitting on the throne at noon, a pageant in the evening.
Wallace Stevens
Death is the mother of Beauty hence from her, alone, shall come fulfillment to our dreams and our desires.
Wallace Stevens
Complacencies of the peignoir, and late Coffee and oranges in a sunny chair. And the green freedom of a cockatoo Upon a rug mingle to dissipate The holy hush of ancient sacrifice
Wallace Stevens
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.
Wallace Stevens
