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Most modern reproducers of life, even including the camera, really repudiate it. We gulp down evil, choke at good.
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
Including
Photography
Modern
Evil
Gulp
Even
Repudiate
Really
Choke
Good
Camera
Life
Cameras
More quotes by Wallace Stevens
The reader became the book and summer night Was like the conscious being of the book.
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Style is not something applied. It is something that permeates. It is of the nature of that in which it is found, whether the poem, the manner of a god, the bearing of a man. It is not a dress.
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New York is a field of tireless and antagonistic interests undoubtedly fascinating but horribly unreal. Everybody is looking at everybody else a foolish crowd walking on mirrors.
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I am what is around me.
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A poet's words are of things that do not exist without the words.
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The chrysanthemums' astringent fragrance comes Each year to disguise the clanking mechanism Of machine within machine within machine.
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The reason can give nothing at all Like the response to desire.
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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.
Wallace Stevens
The poet makes silk dresses out of worms.
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After the final no there comes a yes And on that yes the future world depends.
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Perhaps the truth depends on a walk around the lake.
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Accuracy of observation is the equivalent of accuracy of thinking.
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The most beautiful thing in the world is, of course, the world itself.
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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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I was the world in which I walked.
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Tell X that speech is not dirty silence Clarified. It is silence made still dirtier.
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It is the sea that whitens the roof. The sea drifts through the winter air. It is the sea that the north wind makes. The sea is in the falling snow.
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Life is not free from its forms.
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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.
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Divinity must live within herself: Passions of rain, or moods in the falling snow Grievings in loneliness, or unsubdued Elations when the forest blooms gusty Emotions on wet roads on autumn nights All pleasures and all pains, remembering The boughs of summer and the winter branch. These are the measures destined for her soul.
Wallace Stevens
