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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 point of vision and desire are the same.
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An old argument with me is that the true religious force in the world is not the church, but the world itself: the mysterious callings of Nature and our responses.
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At evening casual flocks of pigeons make Ambiguous undulations as they sink Downward to darkness, on extended wings.
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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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It is never the thing but the version of the thing: The fragrance of the woman not her self, Her self in her manner not the solid block, The day in its color not perpending time, Time in its weather, our most sovereign lord, The weather in words and words in sounds of sound.
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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.
Wallace Stevens
The imagination loses vitality as it ceases to adhere to what is real.
Wallace Stevens
The house was quiet and the world was calm. The reader became the book.
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Everything possessed the power to transform itself, or else, and what meant more, to be transformed.
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One must read poetry with one's nerves.
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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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Death is the mother of Beauty hence from her, alone, shall come fulfillment to our dreams and our desires.
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What is there in life except one's ideas, Good air, good friend, what is there in life?
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To live in the world but outside of existing conceptions of it.
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The wind shifts like this: Like a human without illusions, Who still feels irrational things within her.
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The mind can never be satisfied.
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It was autumn and falling stars Covered the shrivelled forms Crouched in the moonlight.
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Success as a result of industry is a peasant's ideal.
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Tinsel in February, tinsel in August. There are things in a man besides his reason.
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Poetry is a satifying of the desire for resemblance.
Wallace Stevens