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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
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Playwright
Poet
Poet Lawyer
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Ought
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Way
Snow
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Poetry
More quotes by Wallace Stevens
Next to love is the desire for love.
Wallace Stevens
the windy sky Cries out a literate despair.
Wallace Stevens
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.
Wallace Stevens
The sea Severs not only lands but also selves.
Wallace Stevens
The death of Satan was a tragedy For the imagination.
Wallace Stevens
Fat girl, terrestrial, my summer, my night, How is it I find you in difference, see you there In a moving contour, a change not quite completed? You are familiar yet an aberration.
Wallace Stevens
It is necessary to any originality to have the courage to be an amateur.
Wallace Stevens
The poem must resist the intelligence almost successfully.
Wallace Stevens
Ethics are no more a part of poetry than theyare of painting.
Wallace Stevens
Poetry is a satifying of the desire for resemblance.
Wallace Stevens
The poet's function is to make his imagination . . . become the light in the mind of others. His role, in short, is to help people to live their lives.
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
A languid janitor bears His lantern through colonnades And the architecture swoons.
Wallace Stevens
A diary is more or less the work of a man of clay whose hands are clumsy and in whose eyes there is no light.
Wallace Stevens
Beauty is momentary in the mind -- The fitful tracing of a portal But in the flesh it is immortal. The body dies the body's beauty lives. So evenings die, in their green going, A wave, interminably flowing.
Wallace Stevens
To a large extent, the problems of poets are the problems of painters, and poets must often turn to the literature of painting for a discussion of their own problems.
Wallace Stevens
The magnificent cause of being, The imagination, the one reality In this imagined world.
Wallace Stevens
Poor, dear, silly Spring, preparing her annual surprise!
Wallace Stevens
I am the angel of Reality, Seen for a moment standing in the door.
Wallace Stevens
Life is the elimination of what is dead.
Wallace Stevens
