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Perhaps it is of more value to infuriate philosophers than to go along with them.
Wallace Stevens
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Wallace Stevens
Age: 75 †
Born: 1879
Born: October 2
Died: 1955
Died: August 2
Journalist
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Poet
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Infuriate
More quotes by Wallace Stevens
Above the forest of the parakeets, A parakeet of parakeets prevails, A pip of life amid a mort of tails.
Wallace Stevens
Unfortunately there is nothing more inane than an Easter carol. It is a religious perversion of the activity of Spring in our blood.
Wallace Stevens
It is the mind that is woven, the mind that was jerked And tufted in straggling thunder and shattered sun.
Wallace Stevens
Fromage and coffee and cognac and no gods.
Wallace Stevens
I was the world in which I walked.
Wallace Stevens
The winter is made and you have to bear it, The winter web, the winter woven, wind and wind, For all the thoughts of summer that go with it In the mind, pupa of straw, moppet of rags.
Wallace Stevens
Success as a result of industry is a peasant's ideal.
Wallace Stevens
Life is an affair of people not of places. But for me, life is an affair of places and that is the trouble.
Wallace Stevens
A poet looks at the world the way a man looks at a woman.
Wallace Stevens
I know noble accents And lucid, inescapable rhythms But I know, too, That the blackbird is involved In what I know.
Wallace Stevens
What is one man among so many men? What are so many men in such a world? Can one man think one thing and think it long? Can one man be one thing and be it long?
Wallace Stevens
The grackles sing avant the spring Most spiss oh! Yes, most spissantly. They sing right puissantly.
Wallace Stevens
Metaphor creates a new reality from which the original appears to be unreal.
Wallace Stevens
Compare the silent rose of the sun And rain, the blood-rose living in its smell, With this paper, this dust. That states the point.
Wallace Stevens
The poem must resist the intelligence almost successfully.
Wallace Stevens
The reading of a poem should be an experience. Its writing must be all the more so.
Wallace Stevens
At the sight of blackbirds Flying in a green light, Even the bawds of euphony Would cry out sharply.
Wallace Stevens
The life of the city never lets you go, nor do you ever want it to.
Wallace Stevens
What's down below is in the past Like last night's crickets, far below.
Wallace Stevens
The word is the making of the world
Wallace Stevens