It has to be living, to learn the speech of the place, It has to face the man of the time. — Wallace Stevens Copy Share Image
It is never the thing but the version of the thing: The fragrance of the woman not her self, Her self in… — Wallace Stevens Copy Share Image
I am the angel of Reality, Seen for a moment standing in the door. — Wallace Stevens Copy Share Image
The prologues are over. It is a question, now, Of final belief. So, say that final belief Must be in a fiction.… — Wallace Stevens Copy Share Image
“The Planet On The Table Ariel was glad he had written his poems. They were of a remembered time Or of something… — Wallace Stevens Copy Share Image
After the final no there comes a yes and on that yes the future of the world hangs. — 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
The figures of the past go cloaked. They walk in mist and rain and snow And go, go slowly, but they go. — 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
After the final no there comes a yes and on that yes the future of the world depends — Wallace Stevens Copy Share Image
It is time that beats in the breast and it is time That batters against the mind, silent and proud, The mind… — 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
One must have a mind of winter to regard the frost and the boughs of the pine trees, crusted with snow, And… — Wallace Stevens Copy Share Image
One cannot spend one's time in being modern when there are so many more important things to be. — Wallace Stevens Copy Share Image
You know that the nucleus of a time is not The poet but the poem, the growth of the mind Of the… — Wallace Stevens Copy Share Image
If ever the search for a tranquil belief should end, The future might stop emerging out of the past, Out of what… — Wallace Stevens Copy Share Image
For the soldier of time, it breathes a summer sleep, In which his wound is good because life was. No part of… — 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
