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The wind, Tempestuous clarion, with heavy cry, Came bluntly thundering, more terrible Than the revenge of music on bassoons.
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
Revenge
Heavy
Cry
Wind
Clarion
Terrible
Bassoon
Came
Tempestuous
Music
Thundering
Bluntly
More quotes by Wallace Stevens
Success as a result of industry is a peasant's ideal.
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Imagination...is the irrepressible revolutionist.
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Spread outward. Crack the round dome. Break through. Have liberty not as the air within a grave Or down a well. Breathe freedom, oh, my native, In the space of horizons that neither love nor hate.
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Just as my fingers on these keys make music, so the self-same sounds on my spirit make a music too.
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Human nature is like water. It takes the shape of its container.
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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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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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In a world of universal poverty The philosophers alone will be fat Against the autumn winds In an autumn that will be perpetual.
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What is one man among so many men? What are so many men in such a world? Can one man think one thing and think it long? Can one man be one thing and be it long?
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The imagination is one of the forces of nature.
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In the same way, you were happy in spring, With the half colors of quarter-things, The slightly brighter sky, the melting clouds, The single bird, the obscure moon- The obscure moon lighting an obscure world Of thing that would never be quite expressed, Where you yourself were never quite yourself And did not want nor have to be.
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Key West, unfortunately, is becoming rather literary and artistic.
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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
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A change of style is a change of meaning.
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The poem must resist the intelligence almost successfully.
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The yellow glistens. It glistens with various yellows, Citrons, oranges and greens Flowering over the skin.
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The summer night is like a perfection of thought.
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For the listener, who listens in the snow, / And, nothing himself, beholds / Nothing that is not there and the nothing that is.
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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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The mind is smaller than the eye.
Wallace Stevens