Quotes
Quotes about Art
When clouds are seen, wise men put on their cloaks; When great leaves fall, then winter is at hand; When the sun sets, who doth not look for night? Untimely storms makes men expect a dearth.
Superstitions are, for the most part, but the shadows of great truths.
When you have compassion and surrender to your own heart, you are surrendering to the hidden power in your heart, God. You are surrendering to love, because God is Love, the cohesive force of the universe that connects us all. Surrender is not just a religious concept; it's a power tool for listening to the voice of your spirit and following its directions. When you surrender your head to your heart, you allow your heart to give you a wider, higher intelligence perspective. Remember the phrase, "The real teacher is within you." Very simply, that teacher is to be found in the common sense of your own heart. -Sara Paddison.
Consider your own life-how many times a day does some situation pop up that leads to moments of frustration and anxiety? Surrendering your head to your heart in those moments will lead you to balance and fulfillment. As you listen to your spirit, peace follows. So follow your spirit. Build your foundation in your heart. Love must be your innermost and spontaneous response towards every person you encounter. Say to yourself inside, "I just love." Use these words as a key to start the engine running in your heart and watch life brighten with new love and understanding. Surrender to your new awareness and let love unfold the purpose of creation to you. -Sara Paddison.
All is not well. I doubt some foul play. Would the night were come! Till then sit still, my soul. Foul deeds will rise, Though all the earth o'erwhelm them, to men's eyes.
The losing side is full of suspicion. [Lat., Ad tristem partem strenua est suspicio.]
When autumn scatters his departing gleams, Warn'd of approaching winter, gather'd, play The swallow-people; and toss'd wide around, O'er the calm sky, in convolution swift, The feather'd eddy floats; rejoicing once, Ere to their wintry slumbers they retire.
Way down upon de Swanee Ribber, Far, far away, Dere's whar ma heart am turning ebber, Dere's whar de old folks stay. All up and down de whole creation, Sadly I roam, Still longing for de old plantation, And for de old folks at home.
Her tongue will not obey her heart, nor can Her heart inform her tongue--the swan's down-feather That stands upon the swell at full of tide, And neither way inclines.
Some full-breasted swan That, fluting a wild carol ere her death, Ruffles her pure cold plume, and takes the flood With swarthy webs.
A demon holds a book, in which are written the sins of a particular man; an Angel drops on it from a phial, a tear which the sinner had shed in doing a good action, and his sins are washed out.
Yet, taught by time, my heart has learned to glow For other's good, and melt at other's woe.
World-wide apart, and yet akin, As showing that the human heart Beats on forever as of old.
For I no sooner in my heart divin'd My heart, which by a secret harmony Still moves with thine, joined in connection sweet.
Somewhere or other there must surely be The face not seen, the voice not heard, The heart that not yet--never yet--ah me! Made answer to my word.
If thou art something bring thy soul and interchange with mine. - Johann Christoph Friedrich von Schiller,
It [true love] is the secret sympathy, The silver link, the silken tie, Which heart to heart, and mind to mind In body and in soul can bind.
For thou hast given me in this beauteous face A world of earthly blessings to my soul, If sympathy of love unite our thoughts.
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.
A heart at leisure from itself, To soothe and sympathise.
A sympathetic heart is like a spring of pure water bursting forth from the mountain side.
When you are in trouble, people who call to sympathize are really looking for the particulars.
'Twas when young Eustace wore his heart in's breeches.
As if thou e'er wert angry But with thy tailor! and yet that poor shred Can bring more to the making up of a man, Than can be hoped from thee; thou art his creature; And did he not, each morning, new create thee, Thou'dst stink and be forgotten.
(Cornwall:) Thou art a strange fellow. A tailor make a man? (Kent:) A tailor, sir. A stonecutter or a painter could not have made him ill, though they had been but two years o' th' trade.
