...after a night spent writing poetry, one is almost happy to hear the milkman at the door. — Wallace Stevens Copy Share Image
What's down below is in the past Like last night's crickets, far below. — Wallace Stevens Copy Share Image
Time is a horse that runs in the heart, a horse Without a rider on a road at night. The mind sits… — Wallace Stevens Copy Share Image
“We must endure our thoughts all night, until the bright obvious stands motionless in cold.” — Wallace Stevens Copy Share Image
Two things of opposite natures seem to depend / One on another, as Logos depends / On Eros, day on night, the… — Wallace Stevens Copy Share Image
Fat girl, terrestrial, my summer, my night, How is it I find you in difference, see you there In a moving contour,… — Wallace Stevens Copy Share Image
Divinity must live within herself: Passions of rain, or moods in the falling snow; Grievings in loneliness, or unsubdued Elations when the… — Wallace Stevens Copy Share Image
Freedom is like a man who kills himself Each night, an incessant butcher, whose knife Grows sharp in blood. — Wallace Stevens Copy Share Image
The night Makes everything grotesque. Is it because Night is the nature of man's interior world? — Wallace Stevens Copy Share Image
The reader became the book; and summer night Was like the conscious being of the book. — 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
