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Union of the weakest develops strength not wisdom. Can all men, together, avenge one of the leaves that have fallen in autumn? But the wise man avenges by building his city in snow.
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
Cities
Fallen
Wise
Snow
Wisdom
Unions
Avenges
Fall
Leaves
Avenge
Together
Weakness
Weakest
Men
City
Develops
Strength
Autumn
Building
Union
More quotes by Wallace Stevens
Reality is a cliché from which we escape by metaphor.
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God is in me or else is not at all.
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...after a night spent writing poetry, one is almost happy to hear the milkman at the door.
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Life is the elimination of what is dead.
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Disillusion is the last illusion.
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The muddy rivers of spring Are snarling Under the muddy skies. The mind is muddy.
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Intolerance respecting other people's religion is toleration itself in comparison with intolerance respecting other people's art.
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The way through the world is more difficult to find than the way beyond it.
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Life's nonsense pierces us with strange relation.
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The night Makes everything grotesque. Is it because Night is the nature of man's interior world?
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The wind had seized the tree and ha, and ha, It held the shivering, the shaken limbs, Then bathed its body in the leaping lake.
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At the sight of blackbirds Flying in a green light, Even the bawds of euphony Would cry out sharply.
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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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Anything is beautiful if you say it is.
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The imagination loses vitality as it ceases to adhere to what is real. When it adheres to the unreal and intensifies what is unreal, while its first effect may be extraordinary, that effect is the maximum effect that it will ever have.
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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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Poetry has to be something more than a conception of the mind. It has to be a revelation of nature. Conceptions are artificial. Perceptions are essential.
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To name an object is to deprive a poem of three-fourths of its pleasure, which consists in a little-by-little guessing game the ideal is to suggest.
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It gives a man character as a poet to have a daily contact with a job. I doubt whether I've lost a thing by leading an exceedingly regular and disciplined life.
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Imagination...is the irrepressible revolutionist.
Wallace Stevens