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There is no such thing as a dumb poet or a handless painter. The essence of an artist is that he should be articulate.

Algernon Charles Swinburne

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Algernon Charles Swinburne
Age: 72 †
Born: 1837
Born: April 5
Died: 1909
Died: April 10
Literary Critic
Poet
Writer
London
England
Algernon Swinburne
Algernon Charles Swinburne
Algernon Charles Swiburne
Painter
Essence
Poet
Artist
Thing
Articulate
Dumb

More quotes by Algernon Charles Swinburne

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Fruits fail and love dies and time rangesThou art fed with perpetual breath, and alive after infinite changes,And fresh from the kisses of death,Of langours rekindled and rallied, Of barren delights and unclean,Things monstrous and fruitless, a pallidAnd poisonous queen.
Algernon Charles Swinburne
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The loves and hours of the life of a man, They are swift and sad, being born of the sea.
Algernon Charles Swinburne
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The tadpole poet will never grow into anything bigger than a frog not though in that stage of development he should puff and blow himself till he bursts with windy adulation at the heels of the laureled ox.
Algernon Charles Swinburne
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In fierce March weather White waves break tether, And whirled together At either hand, Like weeds uplifted, The tree-trunks rifted In spars are drifted, Like foam or sand.
Algernon Charles Swinburne
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Body and spirit are twins: God only knows which is which.
Algernon Charles Swinburne
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Where might is, the right is: Long purses make strong swords. Let weakness learn meekness: God save the House of Lords!
Algernon Charles Swinburne
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And the best and the worst of this is That neither is most to blame, If you have forgotten my kisses And I have forgotten your name.
Algernon Charles Swinburne
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Love, till dawn sunder night from day with fire Dividing my delight and my desire.
Algernon Charles Swinburne
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From too much love of living, From hope and fear set free, We thank with brief thanksgiving Whatever gods may be That no life lives for ever That dead men rise up never That even the weariest river Winds somewhere safe to sea.
Algernon Charles Swinburne
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Sorrow, on wing through the world for ever, Here and there for awhile would borrow Rest, if rest might haply deliver Sorrow.
Algernon Charles Swinburne
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The highest spiritual quality, the noblest property of mind a man can have, is this of loyalty ... a man with no loyalty in him, with no sense of love or reverence or devotion due to something outside and above his poor daily life, with its pains and pleasures, profits and losses, is as evil a case as man can be.
Algernon Charles Swinburne
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When the hounds of Spring are on winter's traces, The mother of months in meadow or plain Fills the shadows and windy places With lisp of leaves and ripple of rain.
Algernon Charles Swinburne
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When I hear that a personal friend has fallen into matrimonial courses, I feel the same sorrow as if I had heard of his lapsing into theism — a holy sorrow, unmixed with anger.
Algernon Charles Swinburne
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Is not Precedent indeed a King of men? A Word from the Psalmist.
Algernon Charles Swinburne
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A baby's feet, like sea-shells pink Might tempt, should heaven see meet, An angel's lips to kiss, we think, A baby's feet.
Algernon Charles Swinburne
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For winter's rains and ruins are over, And all the season of snows and sins The days dividing lover and lover, The light that loses, the night that wins And time remembered isgrief forgotten, And frosts are slain and flowers begotten, And in green underwood and cover Blossom by blossom the spring begins.
Algernon Charles Swinburne
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The highest spiritual quality, the noblest property of mind a man can have, is this of loyalty.
Algernon Charles Swinburne
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The delight that consumes the desire, The desire that outruns the delight.
Algernon Charles Swinburne
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God's own hand Holds fast all issues of our deeds: with him The end of all our ends is, but with us Our ends are, just or unjust: though our works Find righteous or unrighteous judgment, this At least is ours, to make them righteous.
Algernon Charles Swinburne
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In the world of dreams, I have chosen my part. To sleep for a season and hear no word Of true love's truth or of light love's art, Only the song of a secret bird.
Algernon Charles Swinburne