"Stevens’s poetry makes one understand how valuable it can be for a poet to write a great deal. Not too much of that great deal, ever, is good poetry; but out of quantity can come practice, naturalness, accustomed mastery, adaptations and elaborations and reversals of old ways, new ways, even — so that the poet can put into the poems, at the end of a lifetime, what the end of a lifetime brings him. Stevens has learned to write at will, for pleasure; his methods of writing, his ways of imagining, have made this possible for him as it is impossible for many living poets — Eliot, for instance. Anything can be looked at, felt about, meditated upon, so Stevens can write about anything; he does not demand of his poems the greatest concentration, intensity, dramatic immediacy, the shattering and inexplicable rightness the poet calls inspiration."
Quote Details
Added by wikiquote-import-bot
Unverified quote
0 likes
Novelists from the United StatesEssayists from the United StatesPoets from the United StatesChildren's authorsPeople from Nashville
Original Language: English
Available Languages (1)
Sources
“The Collected Poems of Wallace Stevens”, p. 65
https://en.wikiquote.org/wiki/Randall_Jarrell
Revision History
No revisions have been submitted for this quote.
Categories
Randall Jarrell
Randall Jarrell (6 May 1914 – 15 October 1965) was an American poet, novelist, critic, children's book author and essayist.
213 quotes on TrueQuotesView all quotes by Randall Jarrell →
Related Quotes
"The ways we miss our lives are life."
"His eye a ring inside a ring inside a ring That leers up, joyless, vile, in meek obscenity — This is the devil. Flesh…"
"For this last savior, man, I have lied as I lie now. But what is lying? Men wash their hands in blood, as best they c…"
"The soul has no assignments, neither cooks Nor referees: it wastes its time. It wastes its time. Here in this enclave…"
"It is G.E. Moore at the spinet."
"Somewhere there must be Something that's different from everything. All that I've never thought of — think of me!"
"She would have come from Paradise and complained to God that the apple wasn’t a winesap at all, but a great big pulpy…"
"From my mother's sleep I fell into the State, And I hunched in its belly till my wet fur froze. Six miles from earth,…"
"We read our mail and counted up our missions — In bombers named for girls, we burned The cities we had learned about …"
"Death and the devil, what are these to him? His being accuses him — and yet his face is firm In resolution, in absolu…"