Accuracy of observation is the equivalent of accuracy of thinking. — Wallace Stevens Accuracy Copy Share Image
Cold is our element and winter's air Brings voices as of lions coming down. — Wallace Stevens Copy Share Image
Already the new-born children interpret love In the voices of mothers. — Wallace Stevens Copy Share Image
A poem need not have a meaning and like most things in nature often does not have. — Wallace Stevens Meaning Copy Share Image
A poet's words are of things that do not exist without the words. — Wallace Stevens Language Copy Share Image
It is deep January. The sky is hard. The stalks are firmly rooted in ice. — Wallace Stevens Flower Copy Share Image
The life of the city never lets you go, nor do you ever want it to. — Wallace Stevens Cities Copy Share Image
The grackles sing avant the spring Most spiss oh! Yes, most spissantly. They sing right puissantly. — Wallace Stevens Spring Copy Share Image
The exceeding brightness of this early sun Makes me conceive how dark I have become. — 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 Change Copy Share Image
It's not always easy to tell the difference between thinking and looking out of the window. — Wallace Stevens Differences Copy Share Image
Why should she give her bounty to the dead? What is divinity if it can come Only in silent shadows and in… — 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
After one has abandoned a belief in God, poetry is that essence which takes its place as life's redemption. — Wallace Stevens Copy Share Image
The reader became the book; and summer night Was like the conscious being of the book. — Wallace Stevens Book Copy Share Image
It may be that the ignorant man, alone, Has any chance to mate his life with life That is the sensual, pearly… — Wallace Stevens Bronze Copy Share Image
“Gubbinal" That strange flower, the sun, Is just what you say. Have it your way. The world is ugly, And the people… — Wallace Stevens Flower Copy Share Image
The final belief is to believe in a fiction, which you know to be a fiction, there being nothing else. The exquisite… — Wallace Stevens Belief Copy Share Image
I was myself the compass of that sea: I was the world in which I walked, and what I saw Or heard… — Wallace Stevens Compass Copy Share Image
The winter is made and you have to bear it, The winter web, the winter woven, wind and wind, For all the… — Wallace Stevens Bears Copy Share Image
One sparrow is worth a thousand gulls, When it sings. The gull sits on chimney-tops. He mocks the guinea, challenges The crow,… — Wallace Stevens Challenges Copy Share Image
All the great things have been denied and we live in an intricacy of new and local mythologies, political, economic, poetic, which… — Wallace Stevens Copy Share Image
Union of the weakest develops strength not wisdom. Can all men, together, avenge one of the leaves that have fallen in autumn?… — Wallace Stevens Autumn 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 Brain 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 Poetry Copy Share Image
She says, "But in contentment I still feel The need for imperishable bliss." Death is the mother of beauty; hence from her,… — Wallace Stevens Beauty Copy Share Image
There is not any haunt of prophecy, Nor any old chimera of the grave, Neither the golden underground, nor isle Melodious, where… — Wallace Stevens April Copy Share Image
“The Plot Against The Giant First Girl When this yokel comes maundering, Whetting his hacker, I shall run before him, Diffusing the… — Wallace Stevens Cybersecurity 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… — Wallace Stevens Moon 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 Cold Copy Share Image
“The Emperor of Ice-Cream Call the roller of big cigars, The muscular one, and bid him whip In kitchen cups concupiscent curds.… — Wallace Stevens Emperor Copy Share Image
