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Day after day, throughout the winter, We hardened ourselves to live by bluest reason In a world of wind and frost.
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
Reason
Live
World
Hardened
Frost
Throughout
Determination
Winter
Wind
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The poet is the priest of the invisible.
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Fat girl, terrestrial, my summer, my night, How is it I find you in difference, see you there In a moving contour, a change not quite completed? You are familiar yet an aberration.
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The magnificent cause of being, The imagination, the one reality In this imagined world.
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Imagination applied to the whole world is vapid in comparison to imagination applied to a detail.
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Style is not something applied. It is something that permeates. It is of the nature of that in which it is found, whether the poem, the manner of a god, the bearing of a man. It is not a dress.
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The tomb in Palestine Is not the porch of spirits lingering. It is the grave of Jesus, where he lay.
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To name an object is to deprive a poem of three-fourths of its pleasure, which consists in a little-by-little guessing game the ideal is to suggest.
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The philosopher proves that the philosopher exists. The poet merely enjoys existence.
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I am the angel of Reality, Seen for a moment standing in the door.
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Success as a result of industry is a peasant's ideal.
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At the sight of blackbirds Flying in a green light, Even the bawds of euphony Would cry out sharply.
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Frogs eat Butterflies, Snakes eat Frogs, Hogs eat Snakes, Men eat Hogs.
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One's ignorance is one's chief asset.
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