Quote

What we ask of him is, that he should find out for us more than we can find out for ourselves... He must have the passion of a lover.

Arthur Symons

Change background

T
T
T

Change font

TAGS & TOPICS

Arthur Symons
Age: 79 †
Born: 1865
Born: February 28
Died: 1945
Died: January 22
Art Historian
Literary Critic
Poet
Translator
Writer
Aberdaugleddau
Arthur William Symons
Arthur Symons
Must
Lover
Critics
Lovers
Criticism
Passion
Asks
Find

More quotes by Arthur Symons

Image
Without charm there can be no fine literature, as there can be no perfect flower without fragrance.
Arthur Symons
Image
I heard the sighing of the reedsAt noontide and at evening,And some old dream I had forgottenI seemed to be remembering.
Arthur Symons
Image
Love is a flaming heart, and its flames aspire / Till they cloud the soul in the smoke of a windy fire.
Arthur Symons
Image
And I would have, now love is over, An end to all, an end: I cannot, having been your lover Stoop to become your friend!
Arthur Symons
Image
The mystic too full of God to speak intelligibly to the world.
Arthur Symons
Image
Art begins when a man wishes to immortalize the most vivid moment he has ever lived.
Arthur Symons
Image
There are certain natures to whom work is nothing, the act of work everything.
Arthur Symons
Image
The making of one's life into art is, after all, the first duty and privilege of every man.
Arthur Symons
Image
My life is like a music-hall,Where, in the impotence of rage,Chained by enchantment to my stall,I see myself upon the stageDance to amuse a music-hall.
Arthur Symons
Image
To have loved, to have been made happy thus, / What better fate has life in store for us?
Arthur Symons
Image
Here in a little lonely room I am master of earth and sea, And the planets come to me.
Arthur Symons
Image
There is not a dream which may not come true, if we have the energy which makes, or chooses, our own fate.... It is only the dreams of those light sleepers who dream faintly that do not come true.
Arthur Symons
Image
As perfume doth remain In the folds where it hath lain, So the thought of you, remaining Deeply folded in my brain, Will not leave me: all things leave me: You remain.
Arthur Symons
Image
Life is a dream in the night, a fear among fears, A naked runner lost in a storm of spears.
Arthur Symons
Image
The gray-green stretch of sandy grass,Indefinitely desolateA sea of lead, a sky of slateAlready autumn in the air, alas!One stark monotony of stone,The long hotel, acutely white,Against the after-sunset lightWithers gray-green, and takes the grass's tone.
Arthur Symons
Image
The wind is rising on the sea,The windy white foam-dancers leapAnd the sea moans uneasily,And turns to sleep, and cannot sleep.
Arthur Symons
Image
The desert of virginity Aches in the hotness of her mouth.
Arthur Symons
Image
Sweet, can I sing you the song of your kisses? How soft is this one, how subtle this is, How fluttering swift as a bird's kiss that is, As a bird that taps at a leafy lattice How this one clings and how that uncloses From bud to flower in the way of roses.
Arthur Symons
Image
A place has almost the shyness of a person, with strangers and its secret is not to be surprised by a too direct interrogation.
Arthur Symons
Image
The dead are happy, having no desire. I rise and fall, and rise and fall again, Something is in me, famishing for bread, Baffled and unappeasable as fire.
Arthur Symons