Quotes
Quotes about Art
Forth from his dark and lonely hiding-place
(Portentous sight!) the owlet Atheism,
Sailing on obscene wings athwart the noon,
Drops his blue-fring'd lids, and holds them close,
And hooting at the glorious sun in heaven
Cries out, "Where is it?"
A charm
For thee, my gentle-hearted Charles, to whom
No sound is dissonant which tells of life.
Earth with her thousand voices praises God.
To know, to esteem, to love, and then to part,
Makes up life's tale to many a feeling heart!
In many ways doth the full heart reveal
The presence of the love it would conceal.
What outward form and feature are
He guesseth but in part;
But what within is good and fair
He seeth with the heart.
A dwarf sees farther than the giant when he has the giant's shoulder to mount on.
"You are old, Father William," the young man cried,
"The few locks which are left you are gray;
You are hale, Father William, a hearty old man,--
Now tell me the reason I pray."
A clear fire, a clean hearth, and the rigour of the game.
Martin, if dirt was trumps, what hands you would hold!
Past are three summers since she first beheld
The ocean; all around the child await
Some exclamation of amazement here.
She coldly said, her long-lasht eyes abased,
Is this the mighty ocean? is this all?
That wondrous soul Charoba once possest,--
Capacious, then, as earth or heaven could hold,
Soul discontented with capacity,--
Is gone (I fear) forever. Need I say
She was enchanted by the wicked spells
Of Gebir, whom with lust of power inflamed
The western winds have landed on our coast?
I since have watcht her in lone retreat,
Have heard her sigh and soften out the name.
I strove with none, for none was worth my strife;
Nature I loved; and next to Nature, Art.
I warm'd both hands against the fire of life;
It sinks, and I am ready to depart.
Without the smile from partial beauty won,
Oh what were man?--a world without a sun.
Melt and dispel, ye spectre-doubts, that roll
Cimmerian darkness o'er the parting soul!
Whose lines are mottoes of the heart,
Whose truths electrify the sage.
The meteor flag of England
Shall yet terrific burn,
Till danger's troubled night depart,
And the star of peace return.
Few, few shall part where many meet!
The snow shall be their winding-sheet,
And every turf beneath their feet
Shall be a soldier's sepulchre.
Triumphal arch, that fill'st the sky
When storms prepare to part,
I ask not proud Philosophy
To teach me what thou art.
Again to the battle, Achaians!
Our hearts bid the tyrants defiance!
Our land, the first garden of Liberty's tree,
It has been, and shall yet be, the land of the free.
To live in hearts we leave behind
Is not to die.
I knew, by the smoke that so gracefully curl'd
Above the green elms, that a cottage was near;
And I said, "If there's peace to be found in the world,
A heart that was humble might hope for it here."
Like a young eagle who has lent his plume
To fledge the shaft by which he meets his doom,
See their own feathers pluck'd to wing the dart
Which rank corruption destines for their heart.
The harp that once through Tara's halls
The soul of music shed,
Now hangs as mute on Tara's walls
As if that soul were fled.
So sleeps the pride of former days,
So glory's thrill is o'er;
And hearts that once beat high for praise
Now feel that pulse no more.
Whose wit in the combat, as gentle as bright,
Ne'er carried a heart-stain away on its blade.
And the heart that is soonest awake to the flowers
Is always the first to be touch'd by the thorns.
