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Revolution Is the affair of logical lunatics.
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
Lunatics
Logical
Affair
Revolution
More quotes by Wallace Stevens
Imagination is the will of things. . . .
Wallace Stevens
...after a night spent writing poetry, one is almost happy to hear the milkman at the door.
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After the final no there comes a yes And on that yes the future world depends.
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It is deep January. The sky is hard. The stalks are firmly rooted in ice.
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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 day of the sun is like the day of a king. It is a promenade in the morning, a sitting on the throne at noon, a pageant in the evening.
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The greatest poverty is not to live In a physical world, to feel that one's desire Is too difficult to tell from despair.
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Poetry has to be something more than a conception of the mind. It has to be a revelation of nature. Conceptions are artificial. Perceptions are essential.
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The subject matter... is not that collection of solid, static objects extended in space but the life that is lived in the scene that it composes.
Wallace Stevens
Conceptions are artificial. Perceptions are essential.
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The most beautiful thing in the world is, of course, the world itself.
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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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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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True villains are extremely photogenic.
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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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Thought tends to collect in pools.
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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 poem must resist the intelligence almost successfully.
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The imagination loses vitality as it ceases to adhere to what is real.
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Frogs eat Butterflies, Snakes eat Frogs, Hogs eat Snakes, Men eat Hogs.
Wallace Stevens