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Unless we believe in the hero, what is there To believe? Incisive what, the fellow Of what good. Devise. Make him of mud.
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
Fellow
Fellows
Hero
Unless
Belief
Incisive
Believe
Devise
Make
Heroines
Good
Mud
More quotes by Wallace Stevens
God is in me or else is not at all.
Wallace Stevens
After the leaves have fallen, we return To a plain sense of things. It is as if We had come to an end of the imagination, Inanimate in an inert savoir.
Wallace Stevens
Tell X that speech is not dirty silence Clarified. It is silence made still dirtier.
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The summer night is like a perfection of thought.
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Death is the mother of beauty. Only the perishable can be beautiful, which is why we are unmoved by artificial flowers.
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The word is the making of the world
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There may be always a time of innocence. There is never a place.
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.
Wallace Stevens
It is the sun that shares our works. The moon shares nothing. It is a sea.
Wallace Stevens
What our eyes behold may well be the text of life but one's meditations on the text and the disclosures of these meditations are no less a part of the structure of reality.
Wallace Stevens
Life is an affair of people not of places. But for me, life is an affair of places and that is the trouble.
Wallace Stevens
The whole race is a poet that writes down / The eccentric propositions of its fate.
Wallace Stevens
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.
Wallace Stevens
A poet's words are of things that do not exist without the words.
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The only emperor is the emperor of ice cream.
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Death is the mother of Beauty hence from her, alone, shall come fulfillment to our dreams and our desires.
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The thinker as reader reads what has been written. He wears the words he reads to look upon Within his being.
Wallace Stevens
It is never the thing but the version of the thing.
Wallace Stevens
And what's above is in the past As sure as all the angels are.
Wallace Stevens
Divinity must live within herself: Passions of rain, or moods in the falling snow Grievings in loneliness, or unsubdued Elations when the forest blooms gusty Emotions on wet roads on autumn nights All pleasures and all pains, remembering The boughs of summer and the winter branch. These are the measures destined for her soul.
Wallace Stevens