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2. oldal - In one of those mental voyages into the past which often precede death, Keats had told Severn that " he thought the intensest pleasure he had received in life was in watching the growth of flowers;" and another time, after lying a while still and peaceful, he said : " I feel the flowers growing over me.
308. oldal - If you would serve your brother, because it is fit for you to serve him, do not take back your words when you find that prudent people do not commend you. Adhere to your own act, and congratulate yourself if you have done something strange and extravagant, and broken the monotony of a decorous age. It was a high counsel that I once heard given to a young person, 'Always do what you are afraid to do.
177. oldal - One should either be a work of art, or wear a work of art. It is only the superficial qualities that last. Man's deeper nature is soon found out. Industry is the root of all ugliness. The ages live in history through their anachronisms. It is only the gods who taste of death. Apollo has passed away, but Hyacinth, whom men say he slew, lives on. Nero and Narcissus are always with us. The old believe everything: the middle-aged suspect everything: the young know everything. The condition of perfection...
150. oldal - I do not make it sufficiently clear whether I prefer virtue to wickedness or wickedness to virtue. An artist, sir, has no ethical sympathies at all. Virtue and wickedness are to him simply what the colours on his palette are to the painter. They are no more, and they are no less. He sees that by their means a certain artistic effect can be produced, and he produces it. lago may be morally horrible and Imogen stainlessly pure. Shakespeare, as Keats said, had as much delight in creating the one as...
265. oldal - But to speak in literature with the perfect rectitude and insouciance of the movements of animals and the unimpeachableness of the sentiment of trees in the woods and grass by the roadside is the flawless triumph of art.
65. oldal - An artist is not an isolated fact; he is the resultant of a certain milieu and a certain entourage, and can no more be born of a nation that is devoid of any sense of beauty than a fig can grow from a thorn or a rose blossom from a thistle.
317. oldal - ... along the quays before their gates were riding troops of knights, noble in face and form, dazzling in crest and shield ; horse and man one labyrinth of quaint colour and gleaming light — the purple, and silver, and scarlet fringes flowing over the strong limbs and clashing mail, like sea- waves over rocks at sunset.
75. oldal - Tis the life of heaven, — the domain Of Cynthia, — the wide palace of the sun, — The tent of Hesperus, and all his train, — The bosomer of clouds, gold, grey, and dun.
177. oldal - That would be my metaphysical definition of truth; something so personal that the same truth could never be appreciated by two minds.
80. oldal - Here and there, of course, there are exceptions, but as a class they are either dull, dowdy or dyspeptic. It is only fair to the rising generation of America to state that they are not to blame for this. Indeed, they spare no pains at all to bring up their parents properly and to give them a suitable, if somewhat late, education. From its earliest years every American child spends most of its time in correcting the faults of its father and mother; and no one who has had the opportunity of watching...