Quote

Compare the silent rose of the sun And rain, the blood-rose living in its smell, With this paper, this dust. That states the point.

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
States
Sun
Flower
Awe
Paper
Compare
Blood
Dust
Vision
Smell
Seeing
Rose
Point
Rain
Living
Silent

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All of our ideas come from the natural world: trees equal umbrellas.
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The death of Satan was a tragedy For the imagination.
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Life is not free from its forms.
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The belief in poetry is a magnificent fury, or it is nothing.
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The great poems of heaven and hell have been written and the great poem of earth remains to be written.
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The whole race is a poet that writes down / The eccentric propositions of its fate.
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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.
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Out of this same light, out of the central mind, We make a dwelling in the evening air, In which being there together is enough.
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It was autumn and falling stars Covered the shrivelled forms Crouched in the moonlight.
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The mind is smaller than the eye.
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One must read poetry with one's nerves.
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Unless we believe in the hero, what is there To believe? Incisive what, the fellow Of what good. Devise. Make him of mud.
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Most modern reproducers of life, even including the camera, really repudiate it. We gulp down evil, choke at good.
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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.
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One cannot spend one's time in being modern when there are so many more important things to be.
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The imperfect is our paradise.
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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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The imagination is the liberty of the mind It is intrpeid and eager and the extreme of its achievement lies in abstraction.
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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.
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