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At evening casual flocks of pigeons make Ambiguous undulations as they sink Downward to darkness, on extended wings.

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
Casual
Evening
Wings
Downward
Darkness
Pigeons
Poetry
Flocks
Make
Ambiguous
Extended
Sink

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Words of the world are the life of the world.
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Life is the elimination of what is dead.
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The belief in poetry is a magnificent fury, or it is nothing.
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We say This changes and that changes. Thus the constant Violets, doves, girls, bees and hyacinths Are inconstant objects of inconstant cause In a universe of inconstancy.
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Accuracy of observation is the equivalent of accuracy of thinking.
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A languid janitor bears His lantern through colonnades And the architecture swoons.
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behold The approach of him whom none believes, Whom all believe that all believe, A pagan in a varnished car.
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Death is the mother of beauty. Only the perishable can be beautiful, which is why we are unmoved by artificial flowers.
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Revolution Is the affair of logical lunatics.
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Human nature is like water. It takes the shape of its container.
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The figures of the past go cloaked. They walk in mist and rain and snow And go, go slowly, but they go.
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Disillusion is the last illusion.
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There's no such thing as life or if there is, It is faster than the weather, faster than Any character. It is more than any scene: Of the guillotine or of any glamorous hanging.
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To regard the imagination as metaphysics is to think of it as part of life, and to think of it as part of life is to realize the extent of artifice. We live in the mind.
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It was autumn and falling stars Covered the shrivelled forms Crouched in the moonlight.
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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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Reality is not what it is. It consists of the many realities which it can be made into.
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Ethics are no more a part of poetry than theyare of painting.
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Life is not free from its forms.
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Of the Surface of Things In my room, the world is beyond my understanding But when I walk I see that it consists of three or four Hills and a cloud.
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