Quotes
Quotes about Art
Their cause I plead,--plead it in heart and mind;
A fellow-feeling makes one wondrous kind.
Hearts of oak are our ships,
Hearts of oak are our men.
Bom. So have I heard on Afric's burning shore
A hungry lion give a grievous roar;
The grievous roar echoed along the shore.
Artax. So have I heard on Afric's burning shore
Another lion give a grievous roar;
And the first lion thought the last a bore.
Nor peace nor ease the heart can know
Which, like the needle true,
Turns at the touch of joy or woe,
But turning, trembles too.
Well may your hearts believe the truths I tell:
'T is virtue makes the bliss, where'er we dwell.
'T was sad by fits, by starts 't was wild.
Too nicely Jonson knew the critic's part;
Nature in him was almost lost in Art.
Thy spirit, Independence, let me share;
Lord of the lion heart and eagle eye,
Thy steps I follow with my bosom bare,
Nor heed the storm that howls along the sky.
Where'er I roam, whatever realms to see,
My heart untravell'd fondly turns to thee;
Still to my brother turns with ceaseless pain,
And drags at each remove a lengthening chain.
And as a bird each fond endearment tries
To tempt its new-fledg'd offspring to the skies,
He tried each art, reprov'd each dull delay,
Allur'd to brighter worlds, and led the way.
To me more dear, congenial to my heart,
One native charm, than all the gloss of art.
And e'en while fashion's brightest arts decoy,
The heart distrusting asks if this be joy.
Who, born for the universe, narrow'd his mind,
And to party gave up what was meant for mankind;
Though fraught with all learning, yet straining his throat
To persuade Tommy Townshend to lend him a vote.
Who too deep for his hearers still went on refining,
And thought of convincing while they thought of dining:
Though equal to all things, for all things unfit;
Too nice for a statesman, too proud for a wit.
A kind and gentle heart he had,
To comfort friends and foes;
The naked every day he clad
When he put on his clothes.
The sigh that rends thy constant heart
Shall break thy Edwin's too.
When lovely woman stoops to folly,
And finds too late that men betray,
What charm can soothe her melancholy?
What art can wash her guilt away?
The only art her guilt to cover,
To hide her shame from every eye,
To give repentance to her lover,
And wring his bosom, is--to die.
All human race, from China to Peru,
Pleasure, howe'er disguis'd by art, pursue.
Where gripinge grefes the hart wounde,
And dolefulle dumps the mynde oppresse,
There music with her silver sound
With spede is wont to send redresse.
When Arthur first in court began,
And was approved king.
But in vayne shee did conjure him
To depart her presence soe;
Having a thousand tongues to allure him,
And but one to bid him goe.
All government,--indeed, every human benefit and enjoyment, every virtue and every prudent act,--is founded on compromise and barter.
The cold neutrality of an impartial judge.
Apt alliteration's artful aid.
With curious art the brain, too finely wrought,
Preys on herself, and is destroyed by thought.
