Quotes
Quotes about Art
Where crime is taught from early years, it becomes a part of nature. [Lat., Ars fit ubi a teneris crimen condiscitur annis.]
There is no den in the wide world to hide a rogue. Commit a crime and the earth is made of glass.
Said the pot to the kettle, "Get away, blackface." [Sp., Dijo la sarten a la caldera, quitate alla ojinegra.]
Too nicely Jonson knew the critic's part, Nature in him was almost lost in art.
Criticism is easy, and art is difficult. [Fr., La critique est aisee, et l'art est difficile.]
You know who critics are?--the men who have failed in literature and art.
He has the right to criticize who has the heart to help.
And you, enchantment, Worthy enough a herdsman--yea, him too, That makes himself, but for our honor therein, Unworthy thee-if ever henceforth thou These rural latches to his entrance open, Or hoop his body more with thy embraces, I will devise a death as cruel for thee As thou art tender to't.
Cruelty is a part of nature, at least of human nature, but it is the one thing that seems unnatural to us.
All cruelty springs from hard-heartedness and weakness.
Culture of the mind must be subservient to the heart.
Cunning is the art of concealing our own defects, and discovering other people's weaknesses.
The whole art of teaching is only the art of awakening the natural curiosity of the young mind for the purpose of satisfying it afterwards.
A cynic can chill and dishearten with a single word.
It is daffodil time, so the robins all cry, For the sun's a big daffodil up in the sky, And when down the midnight the owl call "to-whoo"! Why, then the round moon is a daffodil too; Now sheer to the bough-tops the sap starts to climb, So, merry my masters, it's daffodil time.
Over the shoulders and slopes of the dune I saw the white daisies go down to the sea, A host in the sunshine, an army in June, The people God sends us to set our heart free.
All summer she scattered the daisy leaves; They only mocked her as they fell. She said: "The daisy but deceives; 'He loves me not,' 'he loves me will,' One story no two daisies tell." Ah foolish heart, which waits and grieves Under the daisy's mocking spell.
Spake full well, in language quaint and olden, One who dwelleth by the castled Rhine, When he call'd the flowers, so blue and golden, Stars that on earth's firmament do shine.
We look at the dance to impart the sensation of living in an affirmation of life, to energize the spectator into keener awareness of the vigor, the mystery, the humor, the variety, and the wonder of life. This is the function of the American dance.
A thousand hearts beat happily; and when Music arose with its voluptuous swell, Soft eyes look'd love to eyes which spake again, And all went merry as a marriage bell.
He who esteems the Virginia reel A bait to draw saints from their spiritual weal, And regards the quadrille as a far greater knavery Than crushing His African children with slavery, Since all who take part in a waltz or cotillon Are mounted for hell on the devil's own pillion, Who, as every true orthodox Christian well knows, Approaches the heart through the door of the toes.
Others import yet nobler arts from France, Teach kings to fiddle, and make senates dance.
Or, if there were a sympathy in choice, War, death, or sickness did lay siege to it, Making it momentany as a sound, Swift as a shadow, short as any dream, Brief as the lightning in the collied night, That, in a spleen, unfolds both heaven and earth, And ere a man hath power to say 'Behold!' The jaws of darkness do devour it up: So quick bright things come to confusion.
From fibers of pain and hope and trouble And toil and happiness,--one by one,-- Twisted together, or single or double, The varying thread of our life is spun. Hope shall cheer though the chain be galling; Light shall come though the gloom be falling; Faith will list for the Master calling Our hearts to his rest,--when the day is done.
Days that need borrow No part of their good morrow, From a fore-spent night of sorrow.
