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Limited preview - 1974 - 222 pages - Literary Criticism |
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ReviewsWe haven't found any reviews in the usual places.Write review Common terms and phrasesabstraction achievement appears Arnold Auroras of Autumn beauty belief Blue Guitar called central Christian Church Coleridge Collected Poems critical death described desolation earth Eliot Eliot's early emotion existence fictive music figure final Four Quartets Harmonium Harriet Monroe heaven hero human ideal Ideas of Order imagination and reality Imagination as Value imagination's Keats Key West later Latimer Letter light lines live long poem look Mauberley meaning meditation modern poet Monocle moral necessary angel never night Noble Rider Notes Old Philosopher Owl's Clover Ozymandias passage perhaps Philosopher in Rome phrase poem poem's poet poet's poetic possible poverty prose relation religious sadness Santayana sense short poems significance sound speech spirit stanza Stevens wrote Stevens's mind Stevens's poetry suffice suggestion Sunday Morning supreme fiction theme things Thomas McGreevy thou Transport to Summer truth Wallace Stevens Waste Land whole words Wordsworth writing written References from web pagesJSTOR: Wallace Stevens and the Question of Belief: Metaphysician ... Poetry Foundation: The online home of the Poetry Foundation Wallace Stevens - Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia Wallace Stevens: Biography and Much More from Answers.com Caterina Falcone: Wallace Stevens WALLACE STEVENS essays - essay 411 Wallace Stevens - Wikipedia, la enciclopedia libre Wallace Stevens Bibliography - Books bj (Bobby Joe) Leggett - "A Point of Reference for the Artist ... territorioscuola wikipedia España - wallace_stevens References to this bookFrom other books
From Google ScholarWallace Stevens and Metaphysics: The Plain Sense of ThingsSebastian Gardner - 1994 - European Journal of Philosophy Stevens's Conversion of Anselm: " The Utmost Must Be Good and Is"JS Leonard, CE Wharton - 1987 - South Atlantic Review Popular passagesO Lady ! we receive but what we give, And in our life alone does Nature live : Ours is her wedding garment, ours her shroud... Page 137 But in contentment I still feel The need of some imperishable bliss. " Death is the mother of beauty; hence from her, Alone, shall come fulfilment to our dreams And our desires. Although she strews the leaves... Page 8 Complacencies of the peignoir, and late Coffee and oranges in a sunny chair, And the green freedom of a cockatoo Upon a rug mingle to dissipate The holy hush of ancient sacrifice. Page 55 At the first turning of the third stair Was a slotted window bellied like the fig's fruit And beyond the hawthorn blossom and a pasture scene The broadbacked figure drest in blue and green Enchanted the maytime with an antique flute. Blown hair is sweet, brown hair over the mouth blown, Lilac and brown hair... Page 91 She was the single artificer of the world In which she sang. And when she sang, the sea, Whatever self it had, became the self That was her song, for she was the maker. Then we, As we beheld her striding there alone, Knew that there never was a world for her Except the one she sang and, singing, made. Page 101 Not Chaos, not The darkest pit of lowest Erebus, Nor aught of blinder vacancy, scooped out By help of dreams — can breed such fear and awe 7^1 As fall upon us often when we look Into our Minds, into the Mind of Man... Page 139 The poem of the mind in the act of finding What will suffice. It has not always had To find: the scene was set; it repeated what Was in the script. Page 1 If men at forty will be painting lakes, The ephemeral blues must merge for them in one, The basic slate, the universal hue. There is a substance in us that prevails. But in our amours amorists discern Such fluctuations that their scrivening Is breathless to attend each quirky turn. When amorists grow bald, then amours shrink Into the compass and curriculum Of introspective exiles, lecturing. It is a theme for Hyacinth alone. Page 76 She hears, upon that water without sound, A voice that cries, "The tomb in Palestine Is not the porch of spirits lingering. It is the grave of Jesus, where he lay. Page 56 There is no such thing as the truth', That the grapes seemed fatter. The fox ran out of his hole. You . . . You said, 'There are many truths, But they are not parts of a truth. Page 126 Other editions
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