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Quotes from Wallace Stevens

Perhaps the truth depends on a walk around the lake.
~ Wallace Stevens
Human nature is like water. It takes the shape of its container.
~ Wallace Stevens
Death is the mother of beauty. Only the perishable can be beautiful, which is why we are unmoved by artificial flowers.
~ Wallace Stevens
I do not know which to prefer, The beauty of inflections Or the beauty of innuendos The blackbird whistling Or just after.
~ Wallace Stevens
Throw away the light, the definitions, and say what you see in the dark.
~ Wallace Stevens
Reality is a cliché from which we escape by metaphor.
~ Wallace Stevens
The only emperor is the emperor of ice cream.
~ Wallace Stevens
The exceeding brightness of this early sun Makes me conceive how dark I have become.
~ Wallace Stevens
It is not everyday that the world arranges itself into a poem.
~ Wallace Stevens
We live in an old chaos of the sun.
~ Wallace Stevens
The final belief is to believe in a fiction, which you know to be a fiction, there being nothing else. The exquisite truth is to know that it is a fiction and that you believe in it willingly.
~ Wallace Stevens
The imperfect is our paradise.
~ Wallace Stevens
The reader became the book; and summer night Was like the conscious being of the book.
~ Wallace Stevens
A poet looks at the world as a man looks at a woman.
~ Wallace Stevens
I am what is around me.
~ Wallace Stevens
The mind can never be satisfied.
~ Wallace Stevens
The way through the world Is more difficult to find than the way beyond it.
~ Wallace Stevens
I was the world in which I walked, and what I saw Or heard or felt came not but from myself; And there I found myself more truly and more strange.
~ Wallace Stevens
One must read poetry with one's nerves.
~ Wallace Stevens
I certainly do not exist from nine to six, when I am at the office.
~ Wallace Stevens
in the presence of extraordinary actuality, consciousness takes the place of imagination.
~ Wallace Stevens
It is the unknown that excites the ardor of scholars, who, in the known alone, would shrivel up with boredom.
~ Wallace Stevens
The poem must resist the intelligence Almost successfully.
~ Wallace Stevens
Poetry is an abstraction bloodied.
~ Wallace Stevens