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

#beauty

Death is the mother of beauty. Only the perishable can be beautiful, which is why we are unmoved by artificial flowers. ↗

— Wallace Stevens

#beauty

Human nature is like water. It takes the shape of its container. ↗

— Wallace Stevens

#thoughtful #water #nature

It is not everyday that the world arranges itself into a poem. ↗

— Wallace Stevens

#inspirational

Reality is a cliché from which we escape by metaphor. ↗

— Wallace Stevens

#metaphor #reality #imagination

The way through the world Is more difficult to find than the way beyond it. ↗

— Wallace Stevens

#life #poetry #spirit #life

I am the truth, since I am part of what is real, but neither more nor less than those around me. ↗

— Wallace Stevens

#imagination

The poem must resist the intelligence almost successfully. ↗

— Wallace Stevens

#intelligence

The great poems of heaven and hell have been written and the great poem of earth remains to be written. ↗

— Wallace Stevens

#imagination

After the leaves have fallen, we return To a plain sense of things. It is as if We had come to an end of the imagination, Inanimate in an inert savoir. ↗

— Wallace Stevens

#imagination