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How cold the vacancy When the phantoms are gone and the shaken realist First sees reality. The mortal no Has its emptiness and tragic expirations.

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
Gone
Realist
Reality
Realism
Firsts
Mortal
First
Emptiness
Mortals
Vacancy
Tragic
Shaken
Sees
Negation
Cold
Phantoms

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Funest philosophers and ponderers, Their evocations are the speech of clouds.
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If poetry should address itself to the same needs and aspirations, the same hopes and fears, to which the Bible addresses itself, it might rival it in distribution.
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After the leaves have fallen, we return To a plain sense of things. It is as if We had come to an end of the imagination, Inanimate in an inert savoir.
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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.
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Life's nonsense pierces us with strange relation.
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Throw away the light, the definitions, and say what you see in the dark.
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Imagination applied to the whole world is vapid in comparison to imagination applied to a detail.
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The imagination loses vitality as it ceases to adhere to what is real. When it adheres to the unreal and intensifies what is unreal, while its first effect may be extraordinary, that effect is the maximum effect that it will ever have.
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Intolerance respecting other people's religion is toleration itself in comparison with intolerance respecting other people's art.
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Everybody is looking at everybody else a foolish crowd walking on mirrors.
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It was autumn and falling stars Covered the shrivelled forms Crouched in the moonlight.
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The thinker as reader reads what has been written. He wears the words he reads to look upon Within his being.
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