The genuine artist is never rue to life. He sees what is real, but not as we are normally aware of it. We do not go storming through life like actors in a play. Art is never real life.

Quote by Wallace Stevens

Topics: Wallace Stevens Quotes

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.

The day of the sun is like the day of a king. It is a...

The day of the sun is like the day of a king. It is a...

Intolerance respecting other people's religion is toleration itself in comparison with intolerance respecting other people's...

Intolerance respecting other people's religion is toleration itself in comparison with intolerance respecting other people's...

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

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

There is truth in the reply of a great lawyer when asked how the lawyers...

There is truth in the reply of a great lawyer when asked how the lawyers...

Money is a kind of poetry.

Money is a kind of poetry.

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

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

Perhaps the truth depends on a walk around the lake.

Perhaps the truth depends on a walk around the lake.

The poet is the priest of the invisible.

The poet is the priest of the invisible.

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...

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...

Accuracy of observation is the equivalent of accuracy of thinking.

Accuracy of observation is the equivalent of accuracy of thinking.

The philosopher proves that the philosopher exists. The poet merely enjoys existence.

The philosopher proves that the philosopher exists. The poet merely enjoys existence.

Our bloom is gone. We are the fruit thereof.

Our bloom is gone. We are the fruit thereof.

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

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

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.

The fire burns as the novel taught it how.

The fire burns as the novel taught it how.

Perhaps the truth depends on a walk around the lake.

Perhaps the truth depends on a walk around the lake.

The truth is you can have a great marriage, but there are still no guarantees.

The truth is you can have a great marriage, but there are still no guarantees.

The big truth, maybe the only truth, is that we don't know anything for sure.

The big truth, maybe the only truth, is that we don't know anything for sure.