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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
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Machine
Machines
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Chrysanthemums
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Fragrance
Years
Disguise
More quotes by Wallace Stevens
After the final no there comes a yes And on that yes the future world depends.
Wallace Stevens
One ought not to hoard culture. It should be adapted and infused into society as a leaven. Liberality of culture does not mean illiberality of its benefits.
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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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Beneath every no lays a passion for yes that had never been broken.
Wallace Stevens
Death is the mother of beauty, mystical, Within whose burning bosom we devise Our earthly mothers waiting, sleeplessly.
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Everything possessed the power to transform itself, or else, and what meant more, to be transformed.
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A change of style is a change of meaning.
Wallace Stevens
There's no such thing as life or if there is, It is faster than the weather, faster than Any character. It is more than any scene: Of the guillotine or of any glamorous hanging.
Wallace Stevens
All the great things have been denied and we live in an intricacy of new and local mythologies, political, economic, poetic, which are asserted with an ever-enlarging incoherence.
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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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Metaphor creates a new reality from which the original appears to be unreal.
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The soul, O ganders, flies beyond the parks And far beyond the discords of the wind.
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New York is a field of tireless and antagonistic interests undoubtedly fascinating but horribly unreal. Everybody is looking at everybody else a foolish crowd walking on mirrors.
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I am the truth, since I am part of what is real, but neither more nor less than those around me.
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The most beautiful thing in the world is, of course, the world itself.
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Man is an eternal sophomore.
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It has to be living, to learn the speech of the place, It has to face the man of the time.
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The mind is smaller than the eye.
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Life is the elimination of what is dead.
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Poetry is an abstraction bloodied.
Wallace Stevens
