Frases de Wallace Stevens

página 9

“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.”

“It took dominion everywhere.
The jar was gray and bare.
It did not give of bird or bush,
Like nothing else in Tennessee.”

“We are the mimics. Clouds are pedagogues.”

“The sea returns upon the men,
The fields entrap the children, brick
Is a weed and all the flies are caught,
Wingless and withered, but living alive.
The discord merely magnified.
Deeper within the belly's dark
Of time, time grows upon the rock.”

“The poem goes form the poet’s gibberish to
The gibberish of the vulgate and back again.”

“One ought not to hoard culture. It should be adapted and infused into society as a leaven. Liberality of culture does not mean illiberality of its benefits.”

“This is old song
That will not declare itself…”

“A dead shepherd brought tremendous chords from hellAnd bad the sheep carouse. Or so they said.
Children in love with them brought early flowers
And scattered them about, no two alike.”

“It was enough for her that she remembered.”

“Success as a result of industry is a peasant ideal.”

“The day of the sun is like the day of a king. It is a promenade in the morning, a sitting on the throne at noon, a pageant in the evening.”

“I am a native in this world
And think in it as a native thinks”

“The poet is a god, or, the young poet is a god. The old poet is a tramp.”

“To see the gods dispelled in mid-air and dissolve like clouds is one of the great human experiences. It is not as if they had gone over the horizon to disappear for a time; nor as if they had been overcome by other gods of greater power and profounder knowledge. It is simply that they came to nothing.”

“Poetry is a purging of the world's poverty and change and evil and death. It is a present perfecting, a satisfaction in the irremediable poverty of life.”

“There is always an analogy between nature and the imagination, and possibly poetry is merely the strange rhetoric of that parallel.”

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

“I like my philosophy smothered in beauty and not the opposite.”

“The world about us would be desolate except for the world within us.”

“Twenty men crossing a bridge,
Into a village,
Are twenty men crossing twenty bridges,
Into twenty villages,
Or one man
Crossing a single bridge into a village.”

“A breath upon her hand
Muted the night.
She turned —
A cymbal crashed,
Amid roaring horns.”

“Life’s nonsense pierces us with strange relation.”

“All history is modern history.”

“Susanna's music touched the bawdy strings
Of those white elders; but, escaping,
Left only Death's ironic scraping.
Now, in its immortality, it plays
On the clear viol of her memory,
And makes a constant sacrament of praise.”

“The dress of a woman of Lhassa,
in its place
is an invisible element of that place
made visible.”

“Not to be realized because not to
Be seen, not to be loved nor hated because
Not to be realized.”

“One thing remaining, infallible, would be
Enough.”

“A fictive covering
Weaves always glistening from the heart and mind.”

“The swarm of thoughts, the swarm of dreams
Of inaccessible Utopia.
A mountainous music always seemed
To be falling and to be passing away.”

“On a blue island in a sky-wide water
The wild orange trees continued to bloom and to bear,
Long after the planter’s death.”