The whole race is a poet that writes down / The eccentric propositions of its fate. — Wallace Stevens Copy Share Image
Life consists Of propositions about life. The human Revery is a solitude in which We compose these propositions, torn by dreams, By the terrible incantations of defeats And by the fear that the defeats and the dreams are one. The… — 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
