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The chrysanthemums' astringent fragrance comes Each year to disguise the clanking mechanism Of machine within machine within machine.
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
Machine
Machines
Year
Within
Comes
Chrysanthemums
Nature
Fragrance
Years
Disguise
Mechanism
More quotes by Wallace Stevens
The house was quiet and the world was calm. The reader became the book.
Wallace Stevens
Ethics are no more a part of poetry than theyare of painting.
Wallace Stevens
On a few words of what is real in the world I nourish myself. I defend myself against Whatever remains.
Wallace Stevens
Intolerance respecting other people's religion is toleration itself in comparison with intolerance respecting other people's art.
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Reality is a cliché from which we escape by metaphor.
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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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We have been a little insane about the truth. We have had an obsession.
Wallace Stevens
A poet's words are of things that do not exist without the words.
Wallace Stevens
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
It was autumn and falling stars Covered the shrivelled forms Crouched in the moonlight.
Wallace Stevens
Poetry is a means of redemption.
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The imagination is one of the forces of nature.
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Soldier, there is a war between the mind And sky, between thought and day and night. It is For that the poet is always in the sun, Patches the moon together in his room To his Virgilian cadences, up down, Up down. It is a war that never ends.
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I have said no To everything, in order to get at myself. I have wiped away moonlight like mud.
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Yet there is no spring in Florida, neither in boskage perdu, nor on the nunnery beaches.
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Next to love is the desire for love.
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It's not always easy to tell the difference between thinking and looking out of the window.
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The mind can never be satisfied.
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The reason can give nothing at all Like the response to desire.
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One must have a mind of winter To regard the frost and the boughs Of the pine-trees crusted with snow
Wallace Stevens