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The heavy trees, The grunting, shuffling branches, the robust, The nocturnal, the antique, the blue-green pines Deepen the feelings to inhuman depths.
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
Depth
Antique
Heavy
Deepen
Green
Antiques
Blue
Inhuman
Tree
Robust
Grunting
Feelings
Depths
Pines
Branches
Nocturnal
Trees
Shuffling
More quotes by Wallace Stevens
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.
Wallace Stevens
Death is the mother of Beauty hence from her, alone, shall come fulfillment to our dreams and our desires.
Wallace Stevens
Life's nonsense pierces us with strange relation.
Wallace Stevens
People ought to like poetry the way a child likes snow & they would if poets wrote it.
Wallace Stevens
Poetry is the scholar's art.
Wallace Stevens
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.
Wallace Stevens
Children picking up our bones Will never know that these were once As quick as foxes on the hill.
Wallace Stevens
The imagination is one of the forces of nature.
Wallace Stevens
To live in the world but outside of existing conceptions of it.
Wallace Stevens
Words of the world are the life of the world.
Wallace Stevens
One must have a mind of winter To regard the frost and the boughs Of the pine-trees crusted with snow
Wallace Stevens
What's down below is in the past Like last night's crickets, far below.
Wallace Stevens
in the presence of extraordinary actuality, consciousness takes the place of imagination.
Wallace Stevens
Reality is a cliché from which we escape by metaphor.
Wallace Stevens
A diary is more or less the work of a man of clay whose hands are clumsy and in whose eyes there is no light.
Wallace Stevens
Revolution Is the affair of logical lunatics.
Wallace Stevens
Beauty is momentary in the mind -- The fitful tracing of a portal But in the flesh it is immortal. The body dies the body's beauty lives. So evenings die, in their green going, A wave, interminably flowing.
Wallace Stevens
Key West, unfortunately, is becoming rather literary and artistic.
Wallace Stevens
The river is moving. The blackbird must be flying.
Wallace Stevens
The muddy rivers of spring Are snarling Under the muddy skies. The mind is muddy.
Wallace Stevens
