Wallace Stevens Quotes

And the beauty Of the moonlight Falling there, Falling As sleep falls In the innocent air.
Wallace Stevens (1879-1955), U.S. poet. "Anecdote of the Prince of Peacocks."
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And deck the bananas in leaves Plucked from the Carib trees, Fibrous and dangling down, Oozing cantankerous gum Out of their purple maws....
Wallace Stevens (1879-1955), U.S. poet. "Floral Decorations for Bananas."
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At the earliest ending of winter, In March, a scrawny cry from outside Seemed like a sound in his mind. He knew that he heard it, A bird's cry, at daylight or before, In the early March wind.
Wallace Stevens (1879-1955), U.S. poet. "Not Ideas about the Thing but the Thing Itself."
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Green is the night and out of madness woven, The self-same madness of the astronomers And of him that sees, beyond the astronomers, The topaz rabbit and the emerald cat....
Wallace Stevens (1879-1955), U.S. poet. "The Candle a Saint."
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The thinker as reader reads what has been written. He wears the words he reads to look upon Within his being....
Wallace Stevens (1879-1955), U.S. poet. "Things of August."
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Yet I am the necessary angel of earth, Since, in my sight, you see the earth again, Cleared of its stiff and stubborn, man-locked set, And, in my hearing, you hear its tragic drone Rise liquidly in liquid lingerings....
Wallace Stevens (1879-1955), U.S. poet. "Angel Surrounded by Paysans."
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It was at the time, the place, of nougats. There the dogwoods, the white ones and the pink ones, Bloomed in sheets, as they bloom, and the girl, A pink girl took a white dog walking.
Wallace Stevens (1879-1955), U.S. poet. "Forces, the Will & the Weather."
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Shine alone, shine nakedly, shine like bronze, that reflects neither my face nor any inner part of my being, shine like fire, that mirrors nothing.
Wallace Stevens (1879-1955), U.S. poet. "Nuances of a Theme by Williams."
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And as he came he saw that it was spring, A time abhorrent to the nihilist Or searcher for the fecund minimum.
Wallace Stevens (1879-1955), U.S. poet. "The Comedian as the Letter C.."
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It was evening all afternoon. It was snowing And it was going to snow. The blackbird sat In the cedar limbs.
Wallace Stevens (1879-1955), U.S. poet. Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird (l. 50-54). . . Collected Poems [Stevie Smith]. James MacGibbon, ed. (1976) New Directions.
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