Art thou a type of beauty, or of power, Of sweet enjoyment, or disastrous sin? For each thy name denoteth, Passion flower! O no! thy pure corolla's depth within We trace a holier symbol; yea, a sign 'Twixt God and man; a record of that hour When the expiatory act divine Cancelled that curse which was our mortal dower. It is the Cross!
Sir Aubrey de Vere, 2nd BaronetRelated topics
act art beauty cancel cross curse depth divine dower enjoyment flower holy hour man mortal name passion power pure record sign sin sweet symbol thou trace type yeaRelated quotes
We have now in our possession three instruments of civilization, unknown to antiquity. These are the art of printing; free representative government; and, lastly, a pure and spiritual religion, the deep fountain of generous enthusiasm, the mighty spring of bold and lofty designs, the great sanctuary of moral power.
Edward Everett
Men seek retreats for themselves, houses in the country, sea-shores, and mountains; and thou too art wont to desire such things very much. But this is altogether a mark of the most common sort of men, for it is in thy power whenever thou shalt choose to retire into thyself. For nowhere either with more quiet or more freedom from trouble does a man retire than into his own soul.
Marcus Aurelius
A work of art is only of interest, in my opinion, when it is an immediate and direct projection of what is happening in the depth of a person's being.... It is my belief that only in this Art Brut can we find the natural and normal processes of artistic creation in their pure and elementary state.
Jean Dubuffet
I am sure that never was a people, who had more reason to acknowledge a Divine interposition in their affairs, than those of the United States and I should be pained to believe that they have forgotten that agency, which was so often manifested during our Revolution, or that they failed to consider the omnipotence of that God who is alone able to protect them.
George Washington
In spite of all the refinements of society that conspired to make art the dizzying perfection of the string quartet or the sprawling grandeur of Fragonards canvases beauty was savage. It was as dangerous and lawless as the earth had been eons before man had one single coherent thought in his head or wrote codes of conduct on tablets of clay. Beauty was a Savage Garden.
Anne Rice
