Quotes
Quotes about Art
Earth proudly wears the Parthenon
As the best gem upon her zone.
Earth laughs in flowers to see her boastful boys
Earth-proud, proud of the earth which is not theirs;
Who steer the plough, but can not steer their feet
Clear of the grave.
Good bye, proud world! I'm going home;
Thou art not my friend; I am not thine.
Heartily know,
When half-gods go,
The gods arrive.
Born for success he seemed,
With grace to win, with heart to hold,
With shining gifts that took all eyes.
Go where he will, the wise man is at home,
His hearth the earth, his hall the azure dome.
In the vaunted works of Art
The master-stroke is Nature's part.
Thou art to me a delicious torment.
The manly part is to do with might and main what you can do.
God may forgive sins, he said, but awkwardness has no forgiveness in heaven or earth.
His heart was as great as the world, but there was no room in it to hold the memory of a wrong.
Gayly we glide in the gaze of the world
With streamers afloat and with canvas unfurled,
All gladness and glory to wandering eyes,
Yet chartered by sorrow and freighted with sighs.
You know who critics are?--the men who have failed in literature and art.
Our glories float between the earth and heaven
Like clouds which seem pavilions of the sun.
Two lives that once part are as ships that divide
When, moment on moment, there rushes between
The one and the other a sea;--
Ah, never can fall from the days that have been
A gleam on the years that shall be!
A good heart is better than all the heads in the world.
Sparkling and bright in liquid light
Does the wine our goblets gleam in;
With hue as red as the rosy bed
Which a bee would choose to dream in.
Then fill to-night, with hearts as light
To loves as gay and fleeting
As bubbles that swim on the beaker's brim
And break on the lips while meeting.
With reasonable men, I will reason; with humane men I will plead; but to tyrants I will give no quarter, nor waste arguments where they will certainly be lost.
As an egg, when broken, never
Can be mended, but must ever
Be the same crushed egg for ever--
So shall this dark heart of mine!
Look, then, into thine heart, and write!
Life is real! life is earnest!
And the grave is not its goal;
Dust thou art, to dust returnest,
Was not spoken of the soul.
Art is long, and time is fleeting,
And our hearts, though stout and brave,
Still like muffled drums are beating
Funeral marches to the grave.
Trust no future, howe'er pleasant!
Let the dead Past bury its dead!
Act, act in the living present!
Heart within, and God o'erhead!
Lives of great men all remind us
We can make our lives sublime,
And departing, leave behind us
Footprints on the sands of time.
Let us, then, be up and doing,
With a heart for any fate;
Still achieving, still pursuing,
Learn to labour and to wait.
