The imagination loses vitality as it ceases to adhere to what is real.
Wallace Stevens... unreal things have a reality of their own, in poetry as elsewhere.
Wallace StevensThe House Was Quiet and the World Was Calm
The house was quiet and the world was calm.
The reader became the book; and summer night
Was like the conscious being of the book.
The house was quiet and the world was calm.
The words were spoken as if there was no book,
Except that the reader leaned above the page,
Wanted to lean, wanted much to be
The scholar to whom his book is true, to whom
The summer night is like a perfection of thought.
The house was quiet because it had to be.
The quiet was part of the meaning, part of the mind:
The access of perfection to the page.
And the world was calm. The truth in a calm world,
In which there is no other meaning, itself
Is calm, itself is summer and night, itself
Is the reader leaning late and reading there.
Mots clés reading books poetry silence
The way through the world
Is more difficult to find than the way beyond it.
Mots clés life poetry journey spirit
Reality Is an Activity of the Most August Imagination.
Wallace StevensThought tends to collect in pools.
Wallace StevensThere is nothing in life except what one thinks of it.
Wallace StevensA change of style is a change of meaning.
Wallace StevensMots clés poets
The fire burns as the novel taught it how.
Wallace StevensReality is a cliché from which we escape by metaphor.
Wallace StevensMots clés reality fiction metaphor
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