Poor, dear, silly Spring, preparing her annual surprise! – Wallace Stevens
In poetry, you must love the words, the ideas and the images and rhythms with all your capacity to love anything at all. – Wallace Stevens

Poor, dear, silly Spring, preparing her annual surprise! – Wallace Stevens
In poetry, you must love the words, the ideas and the images and rhythms with all your capacity to love anything at all. – Wallace Stevens
Death is the mother of Beauty hence from her, alone, shall come fulfillment to our dreams and our desires. – Wallace Stevens
All the great things have been denied and we live in an intricacy of new and local mythologies, political, economic, poetic, which are asserted with an ever-enlarging incoherence. – Wallace Stevens