American - Poet | October 2, 1879 - August 2, 1955
New York is a field of tireless and antagonistic interests undoubtedly fascinating but horribly unreal. Everybody is looking at everybody else a foolish crowd walking on mirrors.
Wallace Stevens
New YorkLookingWalkingMirrorsNew
The way through the world is more difficult to find than the way beyond it.
WorldFindWayBeyondDifficult
Reality is not what it is. It consists of the many realities which it can be made into.
RealityMadeManyWhichRealities
A poet looks at the world the way a man looks at a woman.
WomanManPoetryWorldLooksWay
If some really acute observer made as much of egotism as Freud has made of sex, people would forget a good deal about sex and find the explanation for everything in egotism.
GoodPeopleSexFindForgetDeal
Intolerance respecting other people's religion is toleration itself in comparison with intolerance respecting other people's art.
ArtReligionPeopleComparisonOther
The genuine artist is never 'true 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.
LifeArtArtistPlayGenuineTrue
What our eyes behold may well be the text of life but one's meditations on the text and the disclosures of these meditations are no less a part of the structure of reality.
LifeEyesRealityStructureMayOur
Perhaps it is of more value to infuriate philosophers than to go along with them.
ValueGoMoreAlongThanThem
The philosopher proves that the philosopher exists. The poet merely enjoys existence.
ExistencePoetPhilosopherMerely
After the final no there comes a yes and on that yes the future of the world hangs.
FutureWorldYesFinalAfter
How full of trifles everything is! It is only one's thoughts that fill a room with something more than furniture.
ThoughtsFurnitureMoreEverything
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