Quote #88
The wind in which the dead leaves blow. Here I inhale profounder strength And as I am, I speak and move And things are as I think they are And say they are on the blue guitar.
More from Wallace Stevens
- I am a native in this world And think in it as a native thinks
- What is beyond the cathedral, outside, Balances with nuptial song. So it is to sit and to balance things To and to and to the point of stil…
- It is the sea that whitens the roof. The sea drifts through the winter air. It is the sea that the north wind makes. The sea is in the fall…
- Throw away the lights, the definitions, And say of what you see in the dark That it is this or that it is that, But do not use the rotted n…
- The swarm of thoughts, the swarm of dreams Of inaccessible Utopia. A mountainous music always seemed To be falling and to be passing away.
- Here is the bread of time to come, Here is its actual stone. The bread Will be our bread, the stone will be Our bed and we shall sleep by n…
- I play. But this is what I think.
- Begin, ephebe, by perceiving the idea Of this invention, this invented world, The inconceivable idea of the sun. You must become an ignoran…