People should like poetry the way a child likes snow, and they would if poets wrote it. — Wallace Stevens Copy Share Image
My tribute to mystical, magical trees that the Cherokee called "standing people. . . ." — Wallace Stevens Copy Share Image
If some really acute observer made as much of egotism as Freud has made of sex, people would forget a good deal… — 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
Life is an affair of people not of places. But for me, life is an affair of places and that is the… — Wallace Stevens Copy Share Image
That tuft of jungle feathers, That animal eye, Is just what you say. That savage of fire, That seed, Have it your… — Wallace Stevens Copy Share Image
Most people read poetry listening for echoes because the echoes are familiar to them. They wade through it the way a boy… — 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
It is easy to suppose that few people realize on that occasion, which comes to all of us, when we look at… — Wallace Stevens Copy Share Image
People ought to like poetry the way a child likes snow & they would if poets wrote it. — Wallace Stevens Copy Share Image
Intolerance respecting other people's religion is toleration itself in comparison with intolerance respecting other people's art. — Wallace Stevens Copy Share Image
The people in the world, and the objects in it, and the world as a whole, are not absolute things, but on… — 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
