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She says, "But in contentment I still feel The need for imperishable bliss." Death is the mother of beauty; hence from her, Alone, shall come fulfillment to our dreams And our desires. Is there no change of death in paradise? Does ripe fruit never fall? or do the boughs Hang always heavy in that perfect sky, Unchanging, yet so like our perishing earth, With rivers like our own that seek for seas They never find, the same receding shores That never touch with inarticulate pang?
Wallace Stevens
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Interpretation

What this quote means

The quote explores the idea that the fleeting nature of life enhances its beauty and fulfillment.

In this quote, Wallace Stevens reflects on the relationship between life's transience and the concept of beauty. He suggests that the essence of beauty and contentment is rooted in the impermanence of existence, implying that without change and the inevitability of death, life's allure would diminish. The longing for a paradise devoid of change raises questions about the nature of fulfillment and whether true satisfaction can exist in a static, unchanging state.

Themes

BeautyContentmentImpermanenceChangeDeathLife

In practice

Example use cases

This quote could be used in a philosophical debate about the nature of beauty and existence.

More from Wallace Stevens

Everything is complicated; if that were not so, life and poetry and everything else would be a bore.
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Most modern reproducers of life, even including the camera, really repudiate it. We gulp down evil, choke at good.
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After one has abandoned a belief in God, poetry is that essence which takes its place as life's redemption.
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Why should she give her bounty to the dead? What is divinity if it can come Only in silent shadows and in dreams?
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LIGHT FROM WITHIN my friend, cancer got you damn it: you had it beat for seven years at least. how did it come back? Why all that pain. again. and you, such a fighter you fought me over and over with tears and words and promises. you fought for me with honesty and a light so bright it hurts my heart. sweet lorna. at peace now finally no more battles, just light from within a flickering candle in the dark burns with you.
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Unfortunately there is nothing more inane than an Easter carol. It is a religious perversion of the activity of Spring in our blood.
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