After the final no there comes a yes and on that yes the future of the world hangs. – Wallace Stevens
I do not know which to prefer, The beauty of inflections, Or the beauty of innuendoes, The blackbird whistling, Or just after. – Wallace Stevens
Most people read poetry listening for echoes because the echoes are familiar to them. They wade through it the way a boy wades through water, feeling with his toes for the bottom: The echoes are the bottom. – Wallace Stevens
Among twenty snowy mountains,
The only moving thing
Was the eye of the blackbird. – Wallace Stevens