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Civilization must be destroyed. The hairy saints of the North have earned this crumb by their complaints.

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
Saints
North
Saint
Destroyed
Crumb
Civilization
Hairy
Must
Crumbs
Earned
Complaints

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God is gracious to some very peculiar people.
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The summer night is like a perfection of thought.
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I have said no To everything, in order to get at myself. I have wiped away moonlight like mud.
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The world about us would be desolate except for the world within us.
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One ought not to hoard culture. It should be adapted and infused into society as a leaven. Liberality of culture does not mean illiberality of its benefits.
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It is not everyday that the world arranges itself into a poem.
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And what's above is in the past As sure as all the angels are.
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The wind, Tempestuous clarion, with heavy cry, Came bluntly thundering, more terrible Than the revenge of music on bassoons.
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It was autumn and falling stars Covered the shrivelled forms Crouched in the moonlight.
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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.
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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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My tribute to mystical, magical trees that the Cherokee called standing people. . . .
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We have been a little insane about the truth. We have had an obsession.
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Realism is a corruption of reality.
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The heavy trees, The grunting, shuffling branches, the robust, The nocturnal, the antique, the blue-green pines Deepen the feelings to inhuman depths.
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The only emperor is the emperor of ice cream.
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It must be this rhapsody or none, The rhapsody of things as they are.
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Yet there is no spring in Florida, neither in boskage perdu, nor on the nunnery beaches.
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Day after day, throughout the winter, We hardened ourselves to live by bluest reason In a world of wind and frost.
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We must endure our thoughts all night, until the bright obvious stands motionless in the cold.
Wallace Stevens