Quotes
Quotes about Art
A true artist will let his wife starve, his children go barefoot, his mother drudge for his living at seventy, sooner than work at anything but his art.
Of all human struggles there is none so treacherous and remorseless as the struggle between the artist man and the mother woman.
Bad artists always admire each others work.
The artist is nothing without the gift, but the gift is nothing without work.
These earthly godfathers of heaven's light, That give a name to every fixed star, Have no more profit of their shining nights Than those that walk and wot not what they are.
Athens, the eye of Greece, mother of arts And eloquence.
Durability is part of what makes a great athlete.
A child's attitude toward everything is an artist's attitude.
I've learned from experience that the greater part of our happiness or misery depends on our dispositions and not on our circumstances.
All authority must be out of a man's self, turned . . . either upon an art, or upon a man. - Francis Bacon,
Write to the mind and heart, and let the ear Glean after what it can.
The sin of Judah is written with a pen of iron, and with the point of a diamond: it is graven upon the table of their heart, and upon the horns of your altars; Whilst their children remember their altars and their groves by the green trees upon the high hills.
But every fool describes, in these bright days, His wondrous journey to some foreign court, And spawns his quarto, and demands your praise,-- Death to his publisher, to him 'tis sport.
Apt Alliteration's artful aid.
Earth's crammed with heaven, And every common bush afire with God; And only he who sees takes off his shoes; The rest sit round it and pluck blackberries.
The mellow autumn came, and with it came The promised party, to enjoy its sweets. The corn is cut, the manor full of game; The pointer ranges, and the sportsman beats In russet jacket;--lynx-like is his aim; Full grows his bag, and wonderful his feats. An, nutbrown partridges! An, brilliant pheasants! And ah, ye poachers!--'Tis no sport for peasants.
Autumn Into earth's lap does throw Brown apples gay in a game of play, As the equinoctials blow.
Thus sung the shepherds till th' approach of night, The skies yet blushing with departing light, When falling dews with spangles deck'd the glade, And the low sun had lengthened every shade.
O, it sets my heart a clickin' like the tickin' of a clock, When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in the shock.
Babies are necessary to grown-ups. A new baby is like the beginning of all thingsâwonder, hope, a dream of possibilities. In a world that is cutting down its trees to build highways, losing its earth to concrete... babies are almost the only remaining link with nature, with the natural world of living things from which we spring.
Babies are such a nice way to start people.
How lovely he appears! his little cheeks In their pure incarnation, vying with The rose leaves strewn beneath them. And his lips, too, How beautifully parted! No; you shall not Kiss him; at least not now; he will wake soon-- His hour of midday rest is nearly over.
He seemed a cherub who had lost his way And wandered hither, so his stay With us was short, and 'twas most meet, That he should be no delver in earth's clod, Nor need to pause and cleanse his feet To stand before his God: O blest word--Evermore!
'Why don't you step out of those wet clothes and into a dry martini?'
I make money using my brains and lose money listening to my heart. But in the long run my books balance pretty well.
