A Quote by Wallace Stevens

Our bloom is gone. We are the fruit thereof. — © Wallace Stevens
Our bloom is gone. We are the fruit thereof.
Ignorance is like a delicate exotic fruit; touch it and the bloom is gone.
I also came to understand that our authenticity (or lack thereof) is made evident by the fruit that our life is bearing.
Our destiny often looks like a fruit-tree in winter. Who would think from its pitiable aspect that those rigid boughs, those rough twigs could next spring again be green, bloom, and even bear fruit? Yet we hope it, we know it.
YOUR HEART IS FULL of fertile seeds, waiting to sprout. Just as a lotus flower springs from the mire to bloom splendidly, the interaction of the cosmic breath causes the flower of the spirit to bloom and bear fruit in this world.
For the crown of our life as it closes Is darkness, the fruit thereof dust; No thorns go as deep as a rose's, And love is more cruel than lust. Time turns the old days to derision, Our loves into corpses or wives; And marriage and death and division Make barren our lives.
The bloom is gone, and with the bloom go I.
Fine fruit is the flower of commodities. It is the most perfect union of the useful and the beautiful that the earth knows. Trees full of soft foliage; blossoms fresh with spring bounty; and, finally, fruit, rich, bloom-dusted, melting, and luscious.
I do not approve of anything that tampers with natural ignorance. Ignorance is like a delicate exotic fruit; touch it and the bloom is gone. The whole theory of modern education is radically unsound. Fortunately in England, at any rate, education produces no effect whatsoever. If it did, it would prove a serious danger to the upper classes, and probably lead to acts of violence in Grosvenor Square.
The need has gone; the memorial thereof remains.
The word is like an object - we were thinking "bloom," "doom." It encapsulated tons: the bloom, the end of the bloom, and then coming back the next year.
To freely bloom that is my definition of success. The question then is, How does arguing with our children advance our goal that our children freely bloom.
One wants to be loved, in lack thereof admired, in lack thereof feared, in lack thereof loathed and despised. One wants to instill some sort of emotion in people. The soul trembles before emptiness and desires contact at any price.
In plucking the fruit of memory one runs the risk of spoiling its bloom, especially if it has got to be carried into the market.
Novelty is to love like bloom to fruit; it gives a luster which is easily effaced, but never returns.
We are identified and known by the sort of fruit, the quantity of fruit, and the quality of fruit borne out in our daily conversation, conduct, and character. There is no greater criterion for Christians. It is the paramount gauge of God's people.
The joy of love is too short, and the sorrow thereof, and what cometh thereof, dureth over long.
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