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Count art by gold, and it fetters the feet it once winged.

Ouida

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Ouida
Age: 69 †
Born: 1839
Born: January 1
Died: 1908
Died: January 25
Novelist
Writer
Bury St Edmunds
Suffolk
Marie Louise de la Ramée
Marie Louise Ramé
Marie Louise de la Ramee
Marie Louise Rame
Winged
Fetters
Count
Gold
Feet
Art

More quotes by Ouida

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Power is sweet, and when you are a little clerk you love its sweetness quite as much as if you were an emperor, and maybe you love it a good deal more.
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Hypocrites weep, and you cannot tell their tears from those of saints but no bad man ever laughed sweetly yet.
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It is only to those who have never lived that death ever can seems beautiful.
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Belief of some sort is the lifeblood of Art.
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It is hard work to be good when you are very little and very hungry, and have many sticks to beat you, and no mother's lips to kiss you.
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There is a chord in every heart that has a sigh in it if touched aright.
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There is a self-evident axiom, that she who is born a beauty is half married.
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The world never leaves one in ignorance or in peace.
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Genius scorns the power of gold: it is wrong. Gold is the war-scythe on its chariot, which mows down the millions of its foes, and gives free passage to the sun-coursers with which it leaves those heavenly fields of light for the gross battlefields of earth.
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Dishonor is like the Aaron's Beard in the hedgerows it can only poison if it be plucked.
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Familiarity is a magician that is cruel to beauty but kind to ugliness.
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Even of death Christianity has made a terror which was unknown to the gay calmness of the Pagan and the stoical repose of the Indian.
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There is nothing that you may not get people to believe in if you will only tell it them loud enough and often enough, till the welkin rings with it.
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Indifference is the invincible grant of the world.
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It is quite easy for stupid people to be happy they believe in fables, and they trot on in a beaten track like a horse on a tramway.
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Honor is an old-world thing but it smells sweet to those in whose hand it is strong.
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A cruel story runs on wheels, and every hand oils the wheels as they run.
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No great talker ever did any great thing yet, in this world.
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We only see clearly when we have reached the depths of woe.
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Take hope from the heart of man, and you make him a beast of prey.
Ouida