Wallace Stevens Quotes

The dress of a woman of Lhasa, In its place, Is an invisible element of that place Made visible.
Wallace Stevens (1879-1955), U.S. poet. "Anecdote of Men by the Thousand."
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Go on, high ship, since now, upon the shore, The snake has left its skin upon the floor. Key West sank downward under massive clouds And silvers and greens spread over the sea. The moon Is at the mast-head and the past is dead.
Wallace Stevens (1879-1955), U.S. poet. "Farewell to Florida."
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The sun was rising at six, No longer a battered panache above snow. . . .
Wallace Stevens (1879-1955), U.S. poet. Not Ideas about the Thing but the Thing Itself (l. 7-8). . . Collected Poems [Stevie Smith]. James MacGibbon, ed. (1976) New Directions.
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Cotton Mather died when I was a boy. The books He read, all day, all night and all the nights, Had got him nowhere. There was always the doubt, That made him preach the louder, long for a church In which his voice would roll its cadences, After the sermon, to quiet that mouse in the wall.
Wallace Stevens (1879-1955), U.S. poet. "The Blue Buildings in the Summer Air."
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The rich earth, of its own self made rich, Fertile of its own leaves and days and wars, Of its brown wheat rapturous in the wind, The nature of its women in the air, The stern voices of its necessitous men, This chorus as of those that wanted to live.
Wallace Stevens (1879-1955), U.S. poet. "Things of August."
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I placed a jar in Tennessee, And round it was, upon a hill. It made the slovenly wilderness Surround that hill.
Wallace Stevens (1879-1955), U.S. poet. Anecdote of the Jar (l. 1-4). . . Collected Poems [Stevie Smith]. James MacGibbon, ed. (1976) New Directions.
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We say God and the imagination are one . . . How high that highest candle lights the dark.
Wallace Stevens (1879-1955), U.S. poet. "Final Soliloquy of the Interior Paramour."
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That scrawny cry—it was A chorister whose C preceded the choir. It was part of the colossal sun, Surrounded by its choral rings, Still far away. It was like A new knowledge of reality.
Wallace Stevens (1879-1955), U.S. poet. Not Ideas about the Thing but the Thing Itself (l. 13-18). . . Collected Poems [Stevie Smith]. James MacGibbon, ed. (1976) New Directions.
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The sun, that brave man, Comes through boughs that lie in wait, That brave man. Green and gloomy eyes In dark forms of the grass Run away.
Wallace Stevens (1879-1955), U.S. poet. "The Brave Man."
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When was it that the particles became The whole man, that tempers and beliefs became Temper and belief and that differences lost Difference and were one? It had to be In the presence of a solitude of the self....
Wallace Stevens (1879-1955), U.S. poet. "Things of August."
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