The greatest poverty is not to live In a physical world, to feel that one's desire Is too difficult to tell from… — Wallace Stevens Copy Share Image
In a world of universal poverty The philosophers alone will be fat Against the autumn winds In an autumn that will be… — Wallace Stevens Copy Share Image
The mind is the terriblest force in the world, father, Because, in chief, it, only, can defend Against itself. At its mercy,… — Wallace Stevens Copy Share Image
After the final no there comes a yes And on that yes the future world depends. — Wallace Stevens Copy Share Image
The most beautiful thing in the world is, of course, the world itself. — Wallace Stevens Copy Share Image
Of the Surface of Things In my room, the world is beyond my understanding; But when I walk I see that it… — 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
So, too, if, to our surprise, we should meet one of these morons whose remarks are so conspicuous a part of the… — 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
