Wallace Stevens
Wallace Stevens
Wallace Stevenswas an American Modernist poet. He was born in Reading, Pennsylvania, educated at Harvard and then New York Law School, and he spent most of his life working as an executive for an insurance company in Hartford, Connecticut. He won the Pulitzer Prize for Poetry for his Collected Poems in 1955...
NationalityAmerican
ProfessionPoet
Date of Birth2 October 1879
CountryUnited States of America
candle god high highest imagination lights
We say God and the imagination are one . . . How high that highest candle lights the dark.
sight light bird
At the sight of blackbirds Flying in a green light, Even the bawds of euphony Would cry out sharply.
stars moon light
Trees Trees, proud standing people stretching fingertips to the sky, reaching, praying glorious attention, breathing light. strength shelter timeless confidence bending and firm comforting rooted chorus line dancing with the moon, the wind, the clouds framing bursts of stars tender rugged celebration absorbing and releasing life each holy branch holding the power of the Universe. There.
dwelling light air
Out of this same light, out of the central mind, We make a dwelling in the evening air, In which being there together is enough.
imagination candle-lights candle
God and the imagination are one.
dark light definitions
Throw away the light, the definitions, and say what you see in the dark.
light imagination people
The poet's function is to make his imagination . . . become the light in the mind of others. His role, in short, is to help people to live their lives.
dark light imagination
We say God and the imagination are one... How high that highest candle lights the dark.
eye few fiction himself thinking torn woman
Democritus plucked his eye out because he could not look at a woman without thinking of her as a woman. If he had read a few of our novels, he would have torn himself to pieces.
moving rivers flying
The river is moving. The blackbird must be flying.
beauty art would-be
Everything is complicated; if that were not so, life and poetry and everything else would be a bore.
american-poet future
After the final no there comes a yes and on that yes the future of the world hangs.
It can never be satisfied, the mind, never.
american-poet beauty
I do not know which to prefer, The beauty of inflections, Or the beauty of innuendoes, The blackbird whistling, Or just after.