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The life of the city never lets you go, nor do you ever want it to.

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
City
Cities
Ever
Never
Life
Lets

More quotes by Wallace Stevens

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The fire burns as the novel taught it how.
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The grackles sing avant the spring Most spiss oh! Yes, most spissantly. They sing right puissantly.
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Imagination is the will of things. . . .
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The wind had seized the tree and ha, and ha, It held the shivering, the shaken limbs, Then bathed its body in the leaping lake.
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Above the forest of the parakeets, A parakeet of parakeets prevails, A pip of life amid a mort of tails.
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The subject matter... is not that collection of solid, static objects extended in space but the life that is lived in the scene that it composes.
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Most modern reproducers of life, even including the camera, really repudiate it. We gulp down evil, choke at good.
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In the same way, you were happy in spring, With the half colors of quarter-things, The slightly brighter sky, the melting clouds, The single bird, the obscure moon- The obscure moon lighting an obscure world Of thing that would never be quite expressed, Where you yourself were never quite yourself And did not want nor have to be.
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The great poems of heaven and hell have been written and the great poem of earth remains to be written.
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I placed a jar in Tennessee, And round it was, upon a hill. It made the slovenly wilderness Surround that hill.
Wallace Stevens
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The chrysanthemums' astringent fragrance comes Each year to disguise the clanking mechanism Of machine within machine within machine.
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It's not always easy to tell the difference between thinking and looking out of the window.
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The day of the sun is like the day of a king. It is a promenade in the morning, a sitting on the throne at noon, a pageant in the evening.
Wallace Stevens
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Success as a result of industry is a peasant's ideal.
Wallace Stevens
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Throw away the light, the definitions, and say what you see in the dark.
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If sex were all, then every trembling hand Could make us squeak, like dolls, the wished-for words.
Wallace Stevens
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It is the unknown that excites the ardor of scholars, who, in the known alone, would shrivel up with boredom.
Wallace Stevens
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It is deep January. The sky is hard. The stalks are firmly rooted in ice.
Wallace Stevens
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The leaves hop, scraping on the ground. It is deep January. The sky is hard. The stalks are firmly rooted in ice. It is in this solitude, a syllable, Out of these gawky flitterings, Intones its single emptiness, The savagest hollow of winter-sound.
Wallace Stevens
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One's ignorance is one's chief asset.
Wallace Stevens