Wallace Stevens Quotes
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A breath upon her hand Muted the night. She turned - A cymbal crashed, Amid roaring horns.
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This is old song That will not declare itself...
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If to serenade almost to man Is to miss, by that, things as they are, Say that it is the serenade Of a man that plays a blue guitar.
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Not to be realized because not to Be seen, not to be loved nor hated because Not to be realized.
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I can Do all that angels can. I enjoy like them, Like men besides, like men in light secluded, Enjoying angels.
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I am the angel of reality, Seen for a moment standing in the door.
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We agree in principle. That's clear. But take The opposing law and make a peristyle, And from the peristyle project a masque Beyond the planets. Thus, our bawdiness, Unpurged by epitaph, indulged at last, Is equally converted into palms, Squiggling like saxophones. And palm for palm, Madame, we are where we began.
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After one has abandoned a belief in God, poetry is that essence which takes its place as life’s redemption.
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Without a name and nothing to be desired, If only imagined but imagined well.
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Is it he or is it I that experience this?
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A few things for themselves, Florida, venereal soil, Disclose to the lover.
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The boots of the men clump On the boards of the bridge. The first white wall of the village Rises through fruit-trees. Of what was it I was thinking? So the meaning escapes.
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Twenty men crossing a bridge, Into a village, Are Twenty men crossing a bridge Into a village.
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Behold The approach of him whom none believes, Whom all believe that all believe, A pagan in a varnished car.