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The mind is the terriblest force in the world, father, Because, in chief, it, only, can defend Against itself. At its mercy, we depend Upon it.
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
World
Depend
Defend
Mercy
Depends
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Force
Father
Chief
Mind
Chiefs
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Children picking up our bones Will never know that these were once As quick as foxes on the hill.
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God and the imagination are one.
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I do not know which to prefer - The beauty of inflections Or the beauty of innuendoes, The blackbird whistling Or just after.
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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.
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Just as my fingers on these keys make music, so the self-same sounds on my spirit make a music too.
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The muddy rivers of spring Are snarling Under the muddy skies. The mind is muddy.
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It may be that the ignorant man, alone, Has any chance to mate his life with life That is the sensual, pearly spouse, the life That is fluent in even the wintriest bronze.
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The house was quiet and the world was calm. The reader became the book.
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The imperfect is our paradise.
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It is the sea that whitens the roof. The sea drifts through the winter air. It is the sea that the north wind makes. The sea is in the falling snow.
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The poet is the priest of the invisible.
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The summer night is like a perfection of thought.
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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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Man is an eternal sophomore.
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