Quotes
Quotes about Art
The denunciation of the young is a necessary part of the hygiene of older people, and greatly assists the circulation of their blood.
And the veil Spun from the cobweb fashion of the times, TO hid the feeling heart?
For neither man nor angel can discern Hypocrisy, the only evil that walks Invisible, except to God alone, By his permissive will, through heav'n and earth.
Constant at Church and 'Change; his gains were sure; His givings rare, save farthings to the poor.
Not he who scorns the Saviour's yoke Should wear his cross upon the heart.
Away, and mock the time with fairest show; False face must hide what the false heart doth khow.
O serpent heart, hid with a flow'ring face! Did ever dragon keep so fair a cave?
To generalize is to be an idiot. To particularize is the alone distinction of merit. General knowledge are those knowledge that idiots possess.
What heart can think, or tongue express, The harm that groweth of idleness?
If you are too smart to pay the doctor, you had better be too smart to get ill.
If you start to think about your physical or moral condition, you usually find that you are sick.
Don't part with your illusions. When they are gone you may still exist, but you have ceased to live.
I am enough of an artist to draw freely upon my imagination. Imagination is more important than knowledge. Knowledge is limited. Imagination encircles the world.
To speak of morals in art is to speak of legislature in sex. Art is the sex of the imagination.
People who lean on logic and philosophy and rational exposition end by starving the best part of the mind.
He who studies to imitate the poet Pindar, O Julius, relies on artificial wings fastened on with wax, and is sure to give his name to a glassy sea. [Lat., Pindarum quisquis studet aemulari, Iule ceratis ope Daedalea Nititur pennis, vitreo daturus Nomina ponto.]
Paradoxically though it may seem, it is none the less true that life imitates art far more than art imitates life.
It must be so--Plato, thou reasonest well!-- Else whence this pleasing hope, this fond desire, This longing after immortality? Or whence this secret dread, and inward horror, O falling into nought? Why shrinks the soul Back on herself, and startles at destruction? 'Tis the divinity that stirs within us; 'Tis heaven itself, that points out an hereafter, And intimates eternity to man.
No, no! The energy of life may be Kept on after the grave, but not begun; And he who flagg'd not in the earthly strife, From strength to strength advancing--only he His soul well-knit, and all his battles won, Mounts, and that hardly, to eternal life.
Then shall the dust return to the earth as it was: and the spirit shall return unto God who gave it.
Thus God's children are immorall whiles their Father hath anything for them to do on earth.
'Tis true; 'tis certain; man though dead retains Part of himself; the immortal mind remains.
But all lost things are in the angels' keeping, Love; No past is dead for us, but only sleeping, Love; The years of Heaven with all earth's little pain Make Good Together there we can begin again In babyhood.
The belief in immortality has always seemed cowardly to me. When very young I learned that all things die, and all that we wish of good must be won on this earth or not at all.
A work of art has no importance whatever to society. It is only important to the individual, and only the individual reader is important to me.
