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
night men world
The night Makes everything grotesque. Is it because Night is the nature of man's interior world?
death night dying
We must endure our thoughts all night, until the bright obvious stands motionless in the cold.
past night lasts
What's down below is in the past Like last night's crickets, far below.
writing night doors
...after a night spent writing poetry, one is almost happy to hear the milkman at the door.
real night opposites
Two things of opposite natures seem to depend / One on another, as Logos depends / On Eros, day on night, the imagined On the real. / This is the origin of change.
summer book night
The reader became the book; and summer night Was like the conscious being of the book.
suicide freedom night
Freedom is like a man who kills himself Each night, an incessant butcher, whose knife Grows sharp in blood.
summer night perfection
The summer night is like a perfection of thought.
war moon night
Soldier, there is a war between the mind And sky, between thought and day and night. It is For that the poet is always in the sun, Patches the moon together in his room To his Virgilian cadences, up down, Up down. It is a war that never ends.
candle god high highest imagination lights
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.