Style is not something applied. It is something that permeates. It is of the nature of that in which it is found, whether the poem, the manner of a g… - Wallace Stevens

A dead shepherd brought tremendous chords from hell<p>And bad the sheep carouse. Or so they said. Children in love with them brought early flowers And scattered them about, no two alike.

There is always an analogy between nature and the imagination, and possibly poetry is merely the strange rhetoric of that parallel.

Straight to the utmost crown of night he flew. The nothingness was a nakedness, a point Beyond which thought could not progress as thought. He had to choose. But it was not a choice Between excluding things. It was not a choice Between, but of. He chose to include the things That in each other are included, the whole, The complicate, the amassing harmony.