A diary is more or less the work of a man of clay whose hands are clumsy and in whose eyes there… — Wallace Stevens Copy Share Image
We say God and the imagination are one... How high that highest candle lights the dark. — Wallace Stevens Copy Share Image
Out of this same light, out of the central mind, We make a dwelling in the evening air, In which being there… — Wallace Stevens Copy Share Image
At the sight of blackbirds Flying in a green light, Even the bawds of euphony Would cry out sharply. — Wallace Stevens Copy Share Image
Throw away the light, the definitions, and say what you see in the dark. — Wallace Stevens Copy Share Image
Trees Trees, proud standing people stretching fingertips to the sky, reaching, praying glorious attention, breathing light. strength shelter timeless confidence bending and… — Wallace Stevens Copy Share Image
The poet's function is to make his imagination . . . become the light in the mind of others. His role, in… — Wallace Stevens Copy Share Image
LIGHT FROM WITHIN my friend, cancer got you damn it: you had it beat for seven years at least. how did it… — 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 Image
The way through the world is more difficult to find than the way beyond it. — Wallace Stevens Copy Share Image
The magnificent cause of being, The imagination, the one reality In this imagined world — Wallace Stevens Copy Share Image
Music falls on the silence like a sense / A passion that we feel, not understand. — Wallace Stevens Copy Share Image
The life of the city never lets you go, nor do you ever want it to. — Wallace Stevens Copy Share Image
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 Image
“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 Image
“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 Image
“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 Image
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 Image
