I am what is around me.

Poet, patting more nonsense foamed From the sea, conceive for thecourts Of these academies, the diviner health Disclosed in common forms.

— Wallace Stevens

It is never the thing but the version of the thing.

— Wallace Stevens

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

The word is the making of the world

— Wallace Stevens

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

“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

Poetry is the scholar's art.

— Wallace Stevens

“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

“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

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

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

— Wallace Stevens

Music falls on the silence like a sense / A passion that we feel, not understand.

— Wallace Stevens

The magnificent cause of being, The imagination, the one reality In this imagined world

— Wallace Stevens

The way through the world is more difficult to find than the way beyond it.

— Wallace Stevens

“There is a perfect rout of characters in every man—and every man is like an actor’s trunk, full of strange creatures, new & old.…

— Wallace Stevens