Wallace Stevens Quotes

To what good, in the alleys of the lilacs, O caliper, do you scratch your buttocks And tell the divine ingénue, your companion, That this bloom is the bloom of soap And this fragrance the fragrance of vegetal?
Wallace Stevens (1879-1955), U.S. poet. "Last Looks at the Lilacs."
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Soon, with a noise like tambourines, Came her attendant Byzantines.
Wallace Stevens (1879-1955), U.S. poet. Peter Quince at the Clavier (l. 41-42). . . Collected Poems [Stevie Smith]. James MacGibbon, ed. (1976) New Directions.
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The ever-hooded, tragic-gestured sea Was merely a place by which she walked to sing.
Wallace Stevens (1879-1955), U.S. poet. The Idea of Order at Key West (l. 16-17). . . Collected Poems [Stevie Smith]. James MacGibbon, ed. (1976) New Directions.
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Two wooden tubs of blue hydrangeas stand at the foot of the stone steps. The sky is a blue gum streaked with rose. The trees are black. The grackles crack their throats of bone in the smooth air. Moisture and heat have swollen the garden into a slum of bloom. Pardie! Summer is like a fat beast, sleepy in mildew....
Wallace Stevens (1879-1955), U.S. poet. "Banal Sojourn."
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Weaker and weaker, the sunlight falls In the afternoon. The proud and the strong Have departed. Those that are left are the unaccomplished, The finally human, Natives of a dwindled sphere.
Wallace Stevens (1879-1955), U.S. poet. "Lebensweisheitspielerei."
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Susanna's music touched the bawdy strings Of those white elders; but, escaping, Left only Death's ironic scraping. Now, in its immortality, it plays On the clear viol of her memory, And makes a constant sacrament of praise.
Wallace Stevens (1879-1955), U.S. poet. Peter Quince at the Clavier (l. 61-66). . . Collected Poems [Stevie Smith]. James MacGibbon, ed. (1976) New Directions.
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My father's father, his father's father, his— Shadows like winds Go back to a parent before thought, before speech, At the head of the past.
Wallace Stevens (1879-1955), U.S. poet. The Irish Cliffs of Moher (l. 3-6). . . Collected Poems [Stevie Smith]. James MacGibbon, ed. (1976) New Directions.
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Chieftain Iffucan of Azcan in caftan Of tan with henna hackles, halt! Damned universal cock, as if the sun Was blackamoor to bear your blazing tail.
Wallace Stevens (1879-1955), U.S. poet. Bantams in Pine-Woods (l. 1-4). . . Collected Poems [Stevie Smith]. James MacGibbon, ed. (1976) New Directions.
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You know how Utamaro's beauties sought The end of love in their all-speaking braids. Alas! Have all the barbers lived in vain That not one curl in nature has survived?
Wallace Stevens (1879-1955), U.S. poet. "Le Monocle de Mon Oncle."
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Music is feeling, then, not sound; And thus it is that what I feel, Here in this room, desiring you,
Wallace Stevens (1879-1955), U.S. poet. Peter Quince at the Clavier (l. 4-6). . . Collected Poems [Stevie Smith]. James MacGibbon, ed. (1976) New Directions.
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