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The house was quiet and the world was calm. The reader became the book.
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
World
Calm
Became
Quiet
Reader
House
Book
More quotes by Wallace Stevens
Poor, dear, silly Spring, preparing her annual surprise!
Wallace Stevens
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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Poetry is the statement of a relation between a man and the world
Wallace Stevens
I know noble accents And lucid, inescapable rhythms But I know, too, That the blackbird is involved In what I know.
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How red the rose that is the soldier
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Compare the silent rose of the sun And rain, the blood-rose living in its smell, With this paper, this dust. That states the point.
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This mangled, smutted semi-world hacked out Of dirt . . . It is not possible for the moon To blot this with its dove-winged blendings.
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Metaphor creates a new reality from which the original appears to be unreal.
Wallace Stevens
You know that the nucleus of a time is not The poet but the poem, the growth of the mind Of the world, the heroic effort to live expressed As victory. The poet does not speak in ruins Nor stand there making orotund consolations. He shares the confusions of intelligence.
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The death of Satan was a tragedy For the imagination.
Wallace Stevens
I still feel the need of some imperishable bliss.
Wallace Stevens
To regard the imagination as metaphysics is to think of it as part of life, and to think of it as part of life is to realize the extent of artifice. We live in the mind.
Wallace Stevens
We say God and the imagination are one... How high that highest candle lights the dark.
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Imagination is the power of the mind over the possibilities of things.
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We say This changes and that changes. Thus the constant Violets, doves, girls, bees and hyacinths Are inconstant objects of inconstant cause In a universe of inconstancy.
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I was the world in which I walked.
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The imagination is the power that enables us to perceive the normal in the abnormal, the opposite of chaos in chaos.
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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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Everything is complicated if that were not so, life and poetry and everything else would be a bore.
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