Quote

Music falls on the silence like a sense / A passion that we feel, not understand.

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
Like
Silence
Passion
Understand
Fall
Sense
Music
Feel
Feels
Falls

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Perhaps it is of more value to infuriate philosophers than to go along with them.
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What's down below is in the past Like last night's crickets, far below.
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It is the mind that is woven, the mind that was jerked And tufted in straggling thunder and shattered sun.
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Perhaps there is a degree of perception at which what is real and what is imagines are one: a state of clairvoyant observation, accessible or possibly accessible to the poet or, say, the acutest poet.
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After one has abandoned a belief in God, poetry is that essence which takes its place as life's redemption.
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Cold is our element and winter's air Brings voices as of lions coming down.
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To a large extent, the problems of poets are the problems of painters, and poets must often turn to the literature of painting for a discussion of their own problems.
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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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Thought tends to collect in pools.
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God and the imagination are one.
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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?
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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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The soul, O ganders, flies beyond the parks And far beyond the discords of the wind.
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Poetry is a response to the daily necessity of getting the world right.
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If sex were all, then every trembling hand Could make us squeak, like dolls, the wished-for words.
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Most modern reproducers of life, even including the camera, really repudiate it. We gulp down evil, choke at good.
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It is the sun that shares our works. The moon shares nothing. It is a sea.
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Frogs eat Butterflies, Snakes eat Frogs, Hogs eat Snakes, Men eat Hogs.
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If some really acute observer made as much of egotism as Freud has made of sex, people would forget a good deal about sex and find the explanation for everything in egotism.
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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.
Wallace Stevens