Quotes About Art

This fellow is wise enough to play the fool; And to do that well craves a kind of wit: He must observe their mood on whom he jests, The quality of persons, and the time, And, like the haggard, check at every feather That comes before his eye. This is a practise As full of labour as a wise man's art For folly that he wisely shows is fit; But wise men, folly-fall'n, quite taint their wit.

The art of our necessities is strange That can make vile things precious.

The poet's eye, in a fine frenzy rolling, doth glance from heaven to Earth, from Earth to heaven; and as imagination bodies forth the forms of things unknown, the poet's pen turns them to shape, and gives to airy nothing a local habitation and a name; such tricks hath strong imagination.

And as imagination bodies forth The forms of things unknown, the poet's pen Turns them to shapes and gives to airy nothing A local habitation and a name

Ill-weaved ambition, how much art thou shrunk! When that this body did contain a spirit a kingdom for it was to small a bound. But now two paces of the vilest earth are room enough

Or are you like the painting of a sorrow, a face without a heart?

So. Lie there, my art.

His beauty shall in these black lines be seen, and they shall live, and he in them still green.

I read that I profess, the Art of Love. Bianca: And may you prove, sir, master of your art! Lucentio: While you, sweet dear, prove mistress of my heart!

Now I want Spirits to enforce, art to enchant; And my ending is despair, Unless I be relieved by prayer

Non v'è arte buona a leggere nel volto i disegni della mente.

But from thine eyes my knowledge I derive, And, constant stars, in them I read such art, As truth and beauty shall together thrive If from thyself to store thou wouldst convert; Or else of thee I prognosticate, Thy end is truth's and beauty's doom and date.

Look here upon this picture, and on this...

I will play the swan. And die in music.

Yet do I fear thy nature; It is too full o' th' milk of human kindness To catch the nearest way: thou wouldst be great, Art not without ambition, but without (15) The illness should attend it.

Tis a very excellent piece of work, madam lady. Would 'twere done.

The great assay of art, but at his touch— Such sanctity hath heaven given his hand—

But thou art all my art, and dost advance As high as learning my rude ignorance.

Las palabras están llenas de falsedad o de arte; la mirada es el lenguaje del corazón.

Writing for me is the hardest thing in the world, but also a thing which, once completed, is the most satisfying. ... I am no prodigy but, Fate willing, I think I can produce art.

In De Rerum Natura, Lucretius pointed out a very central truth concerning the examined life. That is, that the man of science who concerns himself solely with science, who cannot enjoy and be enriched by art, is a misshapen man. An incomplete man.

Language alone is one of the worst means of expressing form, while drawing is incomparably the best.

The true art of seeing and enjoying rests chiefly in sensitiveness and power of sympathy, and the true value of observation is in the noble thoughts that it excites within us.

In all true artistic feeling, the pursuit, not the result, is the reward; for where Art is rightly pursued, it produces a continual satisfaction in the fact that, however slow, there is progress, and that progress is sure; and although the work done may have no mercantile value whatever, it may be regarded as the effort of an immortal mind striving to improve itself, and, therefore, precious.