Wallace Stevens Quotes

The truth in a calm world, In which there is no other meaning, itself Is calm, itself is summer and night, itself Is the reader leaning late and reading there.
Wallace Stevens (1879-1955), U.S. poet. The House Was Quiet and the World Was Calm (l. 13-16). . . Collected Poems [Stevie Smith]. James MacGibbon, ed. (1976) New Directions.
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Yet there was a man within me Could have risen to the clouds, Could have touched these winds, Bent and broken them down, Could have stood up sharply in the sky.
Wallace Stevens (1879-1955), U.S. poet. "A Weak Mind in the Mountains."
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He brushed away the thunder, then the clouds, Then the colossal illusion of heaven. Yet still The sky was blue.
Wallace Stevens (1879-1955), U.S. poet. "Landscape with Boat."
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Of a green evening, clear and warm, She bathed in her still garden, while The red-eyed elders watching, felt The basses of their beings throb In witching chords, and their thin blood Pulse pizzicati of Hosanna.
Wallace Stevens (1879-1955), U.S. poet. Peter Quince at the Clavier (l. 10-15). . . Collected Poems [Stevie Smith]. James MacGibbon, ed. (1976) New Directions.
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Oh, Blessed rage for order, pale Ramon, The maker's rage to order words of the sea, Words of the fragrant portals, dimly-starred, And of ourselves and of our origins, In ghostlier demarcations, keener sounds.
Wallace Stevens (1879-1955), U.S. poet. The Idea of Order at Key West (l. 52-56). . . Collected Poems [Stevie Smith]. James MacGibbon, ed. (1976) New Directions.
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The wound kills that does not bleed. It has no nurse nor kin to know Nor kin to care.
Wallace Stevens (1879-1955), U.S. poet. "A Woman Sings a Song for a Soldier Come Home."
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There were ghosts that returned to earth to hear his phrases, As he sat there reading, aloud, the great blue tabulae. They were those from the wilderness of stars that had expected more. There were those that returned to hear him read from the poem of life, Of the pans above the stove, the pots on the table, the tulips among them. They were those that would have wept to step barefoot into reality....
Wallace Stevens (1879-1955), U.S. poet. "Large Red Man Reading."
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Beauty is momentary in the mind— The fitful tracing of a portal; But in the flesh it is immortal.
Wallace Stevens (1879-1955), U.S. poet. Peter Quince at the Clavier (l. 51-53). . . Collected Poems [Stevie Smith]. James MacGibbon, ed. (1976) New Directions.
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The water never formed to mind or voice, Like a body wholly body, fluttering Its empty sleeves; and yet its mimic motion Made constant cry,
Wallace Stevens (1879-1955), U.S. poet. The Idea of Order at Key West (l. 2-5). . . Collected Poems [Stevie Smith]. James MacGibbon, ed. (1976) New Directions.
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The night Makes everything grotesque. Is it because Night is the nature of man's interior world?
Wallace Stevens (1879-1955), U.S. poet. "A Word with José Rodiríguez-Feo."
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