"Finality is death. Perfection is finality. Nothing is perfect. There are lumps in it"
About this Quote
Finality is the dream of the tidy-minded and the terror of anyone who actually makes things. Stephens lashes those impulses together with a chain of short, absolute sentences that feel like logic and then turn out to be a kind of anti-logic: finality equals death; perfection equals finality; therefore perfection equals death; therefore nothing living, nothing worth having, can be perfect. The bluntness is the point. He isn’t arguing so much as exorcising the craving for closure.
As a poet writing in the early 20th century, Stephens is pushing back against the Victorian and late-Romantic hunger for the finished masterpiece and the polished self. His line reads like a rebuttal to the museum impulse in culture: freeze a thing at its best moment, varnish it, call it complete. Stephens insists that completion is a coffin. Art, like a person, stays alive by staying unfinished, revisable, a little untamed.
The kicker - "There are lumps in it" - is comic, domestic, almost tactile. It drags the lofty metaphysics down to the kitchen table: your porridge has lumps; your sentences do too. That homely punchline is also the subtextual ethic. The lumps are evidence of process, of friction, of the world refusing to be smoothed into a dead ideal. Stephens makes imperfection not a defect to apologize for but the proof of ongoing life - the small, stubborn texture that keeps a poem (and a person) breathing.
As a poet writing in the early 20th century, Stephens is pushing back against the Victorian and late-Romantic hunger for the finished masterpiece and the polished self. His line reads like a rebuttal to the museum impulse in culture: freeze a thing at its best moment, varnish it, call it complete. Stephens insists that completion is a coffin. Art, like a person, stays alive by staying unfinished, revisable, a little untamed.
The kicker - "There are lumps in it" - is comic, domestic, almost tactile. It drags the lofty metaphysics down to the kitchen table: your porridge has lumps; your sentences do too. That homely punchline is also the subtextual ethic. The lumps are evidence of process, of friction, of the world refusing to be smoothed into a dead ideal. Stephens makes imperfection not a defect to apologize for but the proof of ongoing life - the small, stubborn texture that keeps a poem (and a person) breathing.
Quote Details
| Topic | Wisdom |
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