Quotes
Quotes about Art
Television's perfect. You turn a few knobs, a few of those mechanical adjustments at which the higher apes are so proficient, and lean back and drain your mind of all thought. And there you are watching the bubbles in the primeval ooze. You don't have to concentrate. You don't have to react. You don't have to remember. You don't miss your brain because you don't need it. Your heart and liver and lungs continue to function normally. Apart from that, all is peace and quiet. You are in the man's nirvana. And if some poor nasty minded person comes along and says you look like a fly on a can of garbage, pay him no mind. He probably hasn't got the price of a television set.
A man who works with his hands is a laborer; a man who works with his hands and his brain is a craftsman; but a man who works with his hands and his brain and his heart is an artist.
One of the hardest things in life is having words in your heart that you can't utter.
He who is cruel to animals becomes hard also in his dealings with men. We can judge the heart of a man by his treatment of animals.
For as our modern wits behold, Mounted a pick-back on the old, Much farther off, much further he, Rais'd on his aged Beast, could see.
The dwarf sees farther than the giant, when he has the giant's shoulders to mount on.
A Dwarfe on a Gyants shoulder sees further of the two. [A dwarf on a giant's shoulder sees farther of the two.]
A Traveller at Sparta, standing long upon one leg, said to a Lacedaemonian, "I do not believe you can do as much." "True," said he. "but every goose can."
One thing, however, I must premise, that without the assistance of natural capacity, rules and precepts are of no efficacy. [Lat., Illud tamen in primis testandum est, nihil praecepta atque artes valere nisi adjuvante natura.]
Men, like bullets, go farthest when they are smoothest. [Ger., Die Menschen gehen wie Schiesskugeln weiter, wenn sie abgeglattet sind.]
Ability is the art of getting credit for all the home runs somebody else hits.
Martyrdom is the only way a man can become famous without ability.
The question "Who ought to be boss?" is like as "Who ought to be the tenor in the quartet?" Obviously, the man who can sing tenor.
Absence makes the heart grow fonder.
Where'er I roam, whatever realms to see, My heart untravelled, fondly turns to thee; Still to my brother turns, with ceaseless pain, And drags at each remove a lengthening chain.
Thou art gone from my gaze like a beautiful dream. And I seek then in vain by the meadow and stream.
With what a deep devotedness of woe I wept thy absence--o'er and o'er again Thinking of thee, still thee, till thought grew pain, And memory, like a drop that, night and day, Falls cold and ceaseless, wore my heart away!
I dote on his very absence, and I wish them a fair departure.
'Tis said that absence conquers love; But oh! believe it not I've tried, alas! its power to prove, But thou art not forgot.
Absence makes the heart grow fonder, Isle of Beauty, Fare thee well!
The heart may think it knows better: the senses know that absence blots people out. We have really no absent friends.
Alec Issignois said a camel was a horse made by a committee.. but a camel is an animal created by God to adapt to deserts made by treekilling human beings The animal made by human commitee had pickled pigs' feet .. the pigs now had no feet .. frog's legs ...the frogs now had no legs chicken's thighs... the chickens now had no thighs lamb's ribs .. the lamb now had no ribs turkey's breasts.. the turkey's chest was carved sheep's eyes which watched the devourers calf brains which contained Mad Cow and God sent angels to wipe all violence from the earth from this day forth © S N Shriver.
The shriek was followed by another, louder and yet more agonizing..for once started upon that journey, the hog never came back. One by one the men hooked up the hogs and slit their throats. There was a line of hogs with squeals and lifeblood ebbing away.. until at last each vanished into a huge vat of boiling water (some still alive). The hogs were so innocent. They came so very trustingly. They were so very human in their protests. They had done nothing to deserve it. in the book THE JUNGLE.
They did the little boy turkey named Art... choke and then served his dead body with artichokes.
Ah, when to the heart of man was it ever less than a treason to go with the drift of things to yield with a grace to reason and bow and accept at the end of a love or a season.
