It can never be satisfied, the mind, never.

Quote by Wallace Stevens

Topics: Wallace Stevens Quotes

The poet is the priest of the invisible.

The poet is the priest of the invisible.

The most beautiful thing in the world is, of course, the world itself.

The most beautiful thing in the world is, of course, the world itself.

In the world of words, the imagination is one of the forces of nature.

In the world of words, the imagination is one of the forces of nature.

A poem need not have a meaning and like most things in nature often does...

A poem need not have a meaning and like most things in nature often does...

The summer night is like a perfection of thought.

The summer night is like a perfection of thought.

If poetry should address itself to the same needs and aspirations, the same hopes and...

If poetry should address itself to the same needs and aspirations, the same hopes and...

Poor, dear, silly Spring, preparing her annual surprise!

Poor, dear, silly Spring, preparing her annual surprise!

After the final no there comes a yes and on that yes the future of...

After the final no there comes a yes and on that yes the future of...

Style is not something applied. It is something that permeates. It is of the nature...

Style is not something applied. It is something that permeates. It is of the nature...

Our bloom is gone. We are the fruit thereof.

Our bloom is gone. We are the fruit thereof.

Nothing could be more inappropriate to American literature than its English source since the Americans...

Nothing could be more inappropriate to American literature than its English source since the Americans...

Death is the mother of Beauty; hence from her, alone, shall come fulfillment to our...

Death is the mother of Beauty; hence from her, alone, shall come fulfillment to our...

It is the unknown that excites the ardor of scholars, who, in the known alone,...

It is the unknown that excites the ardor of scholars, who, in the known alone,...

How full of trifles everything is! It is only one's thoughts that fill a room...

How full of trifles everything is! It is only one's thoughts that fill a room...

What our eyes behold may well be the text of life but one's meditations on...

What our eyes behold may well be the text of life but one's meditations on...

Reality is not what it is. It consists of the many realities which it can...

Reality is not what it is. It consists of the many realities which it can...

New York is a field of tireless and antagonistic interests undoubtedly fascinating but horribly unreal....

New York is a field of tireless and antagonistic interests undoubtedly fascinating but horribly unreal....

The imagination is man's power over nature.

The imagination is man's power over nature.

As life grows more terrible, its literature grows more terrible.

As life grows more terrible, its literature grows more terrible.

The point of vision and desire are the same.

The point of vision and desire are the same.