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The word is the making of the 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
World
Word
Making

More quotes by Wallace Stevens

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It is time that beats in the breast and it is time That batters against the mind, silent and proud, The mind that knows it is destroyed by time.
Wallace Stevens
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The chrysanthemums' astringent fragrance comes Each year to disguise the clanking mechanism Of machine within machine within machine.
Wallace Stevens
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Poetry is the statement of a relation between a man and the world
Wallace Stevens
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A poet looks at the world the way a man looks at a woman.
Wallace Stevens
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The purpose of poetry is to make life complete in itself.
Wallace Stevens
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True villains are extremely photogenic.
Wallace Stevens
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The house was quiet and the world was calm. The reader became the book.
Wallace Stevens
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Thus the theory of description matters most. It is the theory of the word for those For whom the word is the making of the world, The buzzing world and lisping firmament.
Wallace Stevens
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The poet is the priest of the invisible.
Wallace Stevens
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Reality is a cliché from which we escape by metaphor.
Wallace Stevens
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Revolution Is the affair of logical lunatics.
Wallace Stevens
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It is the sun that shares our works. The moon shares nothing. It is a sea.
Wallace Stevens
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The poet's function is to make his imagination . . . become the light in the mind of others. His role, in short, is to help people to live their lives.
Wallace Stevens
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I can't make head or tail of Life. Love is a fine thing, Art is a fine thing, Nature is a fine thing but the average human mind and spirit are confusing beyond measure. Sometimes I think that all our learning is the little learning of the maxim. To laugh at a Roman awe-stricken in a sacred grove is to laugh at something today.
Wallace Stevens
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Yet there is no spring in Florida, neither in boskage perdu, nor on the nunnery beaches.
Wallace Stevens
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Day after day, throughout the winter, We hardened ourselves to live by bluest reason In a world of wind and frost.
Wallace Stevens
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The imperfect is our paradise.
Wallace Stevens
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Our bloom is gone. We are the fruit thereof.
Wallace Stevens
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Make the visible a little hard to see.
Wallace Stevens
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The mind can never be satisfied.
Wallace Stevens