Frases de Wallace Stevens

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“Autores são atores. Livros são teatros.”

“Entre os vinte cimos nevados nada movia a não ser o olho do pássaro preto”

“O poema deve resistir à inteligência / Quase com sucesso.”

“Um poeta olha para o mundo como um homem olha para uma mulher.”

“Jogue fora as luzes, as definições. Diga o que você vê na escuridão.”

“The soul, he said, is composed
Of the external world.”

“Struggling toward impassioned choirs,
Crying among the clouds, enraged
By gold antagonists in air —
I know my lazy, leaden twang
Is like the reason in a storm;
And yet it brings the storm to bear.
I twang it out and leave it there.”

“Yet voluble of dumb violence. You look
Across the roofs as sigil and as ward
And in your centre mark them and are cowed...”

“Death is the mother of beauty”

“It was evening all afternoon.
It was snowing
And it was going to snow.
The blackbird sat
In the cedar-limbs.”

“The old seraph, parcel-gilded, among violets
Inhaled the appointed odor, while the doves
Rose up like phantoms from chronologies.”

“Nothing had happened because nothing had changed.
Yet the General was rubbish in the end.”

“Among twenty snowy mountains,
The only moving thing
Was the eye of the blackbird.”

“What is there in life except one's ideas.
Good air, good friend, what is there in life?
Is it ideas that I believe?”

“The words they spoke were voices that she heard.
She looked at them and saw them as they were
And what she felt fought off the barest phrase.”

“Logos and logic, crystal hypothesis,
Incipit and a form to speak the word
And every latent double in the word,

Beau linguist.”

“The man bent over his guitar,
A shearsman of sorts. The day was green.
They said, "You have a blue guitar,
You do not play things as they are."
The man replied, "Things as they are
Are changed upon the blue guitar."
And they said then, "But play, you must,
A tune beyond us, yet ourselves,
A tune upon the blue guitar
Of things exactly as they are."”

“A substitute for all the gods:
This self, not that gold self aloft,
Alone, one's shadow magnified,
Lord of the body, looking down,
As now and called most high,
The shadow of Chocorua
In an immenser heaven, aloft,
Alone, lord of the land and lord
Of the men that live in the land, high lord.
One's self and the mountains of one's land,
Without shadows, without magnificence,
The flesh, the bone, the dirt, the stone.”

“A poem should be a part of one's sense of life.”

“The meeting of their shadows or that meet
In a book in a barrack, a letter from Malay.
But your war ends. And after it you return”

“Each must the other take as sign, short sign
To stop the whirlwind, balk the elements.”

“These external regions, what do we fill them with
Except reflections”

“The monastic man is an artist.The philosopher
Appoints man’s place in music, say, today.
But the priest desires. The philosopher desires.

And not to have is the beginning of desire.
To have what is not is its ancient cycle.”

“A man and a woman
Are one.
A man and a woman and a blackbird
Are one.”

“The world is a force not a presence.”

“I play. But this is what I think.”

“For the poet, the imagination is paramount, and... he dwells apart in his imagination, as the philosopher dwells in his reason, and as the priest dwells in his belief … The imagination is the power of the mind over the possibilities of things.”

“This was their ceremonial hymn: Anon
We loved but would no marriage make. Anon
The one refused the other one to take, Foreswore the sipping of the marriage wine.”

“He imposes orders as he thinks of them,
As the fox and snake do. It is a brave affair.”

“The first idea is an imagined thing.”

“The romantic intoning, the declaimed clairvoyance
Are parts of apotheosis, appropriate
And of its nature, the idiom thereof.”

“Upon the bank, she stood
In the cool
Of spent emotions.
She felt, among the leaves,
The dew
Of old devotions.”

“These
Are the music of meet resignation; these
The responsive, still sustaining pomps for you
To magnify, if in that drifting waste
You are to be accompanied by more
Than mute bare splendors of the sun and moon.”

“Sentimentality is a failure of feeling.”