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The great poems of heaven and hell have been written and the great poem of earth remains to be written.
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
Hell
Written
Heaven
Earth
Great
Poems
Poem
Remains
More quotes by Wallace Stevens
Why should she give her bounty to the dead? What is divinity if it can come Only in silent shadows and in dreams?
Wallace Stevens
in the presence of extraordinary actuality, consciousness takes the place of imagination.
Wallace Stevens
It was evening all afternoon. It was snowing And it was going to snow. The blackbird sat In the cedar-limbs.
Wallace Stevens
It is the belief and not the god that counts.
Wallace Stevens
Time is a horse that runs in the heart, a horse Without a rider on a road at night. The mind sits listening and hears it pass.
Wallace Stevens
I am one of you and being one of you is being and knowing what I am and know. Yet I am the necessary Angel of earth, since, in my sight, you see the earth again.
Wallace Stevens
It is the sun that shares our works. The moon shares nothing. It is a sea.
Wallace Stevens
Sentimentality is a failure of feeling.
Wallace Stevens
Most modern reproducers of life, even including the camera, really repudiate it. We gulp down evil, choke at good.
Wallace Stevens
Metaphor creates a new reality from which the original appears to be unreal.
Wallace Stevens
That tuft of jungle feathers, That animal eye, Is just what you say. That savage of fire, That seed, Have it your way. The world is ugly, And the people are sad.
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
What our eyes behold may well be the text of life but one's meditations on the text and the disclosures of these meditations are no less a part of the structure of reality.
Wallace Stevens
God and the imagination are one.
Wallace Stevens
The imagination is the liberty of the mind It is intrpeid and eager and the extreme of its achievement lies in abstraction.
Wallace Stevens
The soul, O ganders, flies beyond the parks And far beyond the discords of the wind.
Wallace Stevens
The night Makes everything grotesque. Is it because Night is the nature of man's interior world?
Wallace Stevens
Our bloom is gone. We are the fruit thereof.
Wallace Stevens
The mind can never be satisfied.
Wallace Stevens
Yet there is no spring in Florida, neither in boskage perdu, nor on the nunnery beaches.
Wallace Stevens
