Wallace Stevens Quotes

The afternoon is visibly a source, Too wide, too irised, to be more than calm, Too much like thinking to be less than thought, Obscurest parent, obscurest patriarch, A daily majesty of meditation, That comes and goes in silences of its own.
Wallace Stevens (1879-1955), U.S. poet. "Looking Across the Fields and Watching the Birds Fly."
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The grackles sing avant the spring Most spiss oh! Yes, most spissantly. They sing right puissantly.
Wallace Stevens (1879-1955), U.S. poet. "Snow and Stars."
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We have been a little insane about the truth. We have had an obsession.
Wallace Stevens (1879-1955), U.S. poet. Lecture. "The Noble Rider and the Sound of Words," The Necessary Angel (first published 1942, repr. 1951).
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The reason can give nothing at all Like the response to desire.
Wallace Stevens (1879-1955), U.S. poet. "Dezembrum," Parts of a World (1942). Concluding lines.
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When over the houses, a golden illusion Brings back an earlier season of quiet And quieting dreams in the sleepers in darkness The moon is the mother of pathos and pity.
Wallace Stevens (1879-1955), U.S. poet. "Lunar Paraphrase."
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Describe with deepened voice And noble imagery His slowly-falling round Down to the fishy sea.
Wallace Stevens (1879-1955), U.S. poet. "Some Friends from Pascagoula."
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The fire burns as the novel taught it how.
Wallace Stevens (1879-1955), U.S. poet. "The Novel."
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Tonight there are only the winter stars. The sky is no longer a junk-shop, Full of javelins and old fire-balls, Triangles and the names of girls.
Wallace Stevens (1879-1955), U.S. poet. "Dezembrum."
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The mind is the great poem of winter, the man, Who, to find what will suffice, Destroys romantic tenements Of rose and ice....
Wallace Stevens (1879-1955), U.S. poet. "Man and Bottle."
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On an old shore, the vulgar ocean rolls Noiselessly, noiselessly, resembling a thin bird, That thinks of settling, yet never settles, on a nest.
Wallace Stevens (1879-1955), U.S. poet. "Somnambulisma."
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