A poem need not have a meaning and like most things in nature often does not have. — Wallace Stevens Copy Share Image
The reading of a poem should be an experience. Its writing must be all the more so. — Wallace Stevens Copy Share Image
The mind is the great poem of winter, the man, Who, to find what will suffice, Destroys romantic tenements Of rose and… — Wallace Stevens Copy Share Image
“From this the poem springs: that we live in a place That is not our own and, much more, not ourselves And… — Wallace Stevens Copy Share Image
The mind is the great poem ofwinter, the man, Who, to find what will suffice, Destroys romantic tenements Of rose and ice… — Wallace Stevens Copy Share Image
“THE POEMS OF OUR CLIMATE I Clear water in a brilliant bowl, Pink and white carnations. The light In the room more… — Wallace Stevens Copy Share Image
“The Poem That Took The Place Of A Mountain There it was, word for word, The poem that took the place of… — Wallace Stevens Copy Share Image
Poet, patting more nonsense foamed From the sea, conceive for thecourts Of these academies, the diviner health Disclosed in common forms. — Wallace Stevens Copy Share
The way through the world is more difficult to find than the way beyond it. — Wallace Stevens Copy Share
The magnificent cause of being, The imagination, the one reality In this imagined world — Wallace Stevens Copy Share
Music falls on the silence like a sense / A passion that we feel, not understand. — Wallace Stevens Copy Share
After a lustre of the moon, we say We have not the need of any paradise, We have not the need of any seducing… — Wallace Stevens Copy Share
“We live in an old chaos of the sun, Or old dependency of day and night, Or island solitude, unsponsored, free, Of that wide… — Wallace Stevens Copy Share
“Lunar Paraphrase" The moon is the mother of pathos and pity. When, at the wearier end of November, Her old light moves along the… — Wallace Stevens Copy Share
“The stars are putting on their glittering belts, They throw around their shoulders cloaks that flash Like a great shadow's last embellishment” — wallace stevens Copy Share
Unfortunately there is nothing more inane than an Easter carol. It is a religious perversion of the activity of Spring in our blood. — Wallace Stevens Copy Share
A diary is more or less the work of a man of clay whose hands are clumsy and in whose eyes there is no… — Wallace Stevens Copy Share
