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The night Makes everything grotesque. Is it because Night is the nature of man's interior world?
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
Interior
Interiors
Makes
Night
Nature
Everything
Men
World
Grotesque
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Poor, dear, silly Spring, preparing her annual surprise!
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It is the sun that shares our works. The moon shares nothing. It is a sea.
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The physical world is meaningless tonight And there is no other.
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Reality is not what it is. It consists of the many realities which it can be made into.
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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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A pear should come to the table popped with juice, Ripened in warmth and served in warmth. On terms Like these, autumn beguiles the fatalist.
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The way through the world is more difficult to find than the way beyond it.
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Fat girl, terrestrial, my summer, my night, How is it I find you in difference, see you there In a moving contour, a change not quite completed? You are familiar yet an aberration.
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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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The soul, O ganders, flies beyond the parks And far beyond the discords of the wind.
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It is the unknown that excites the ardor of scholars, who, in the known alone, would shrivel up with boredom.
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Already the new-born children interpret love In the voices of mothers.
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Everybody is looking at everybody else a foolish crowd walking on mirrors.
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