And that sweet city with her dreaming spires, She needs not June for beauty’s heightening.
MATTHEW ARNOLDStyle … is a peculiar recasting and heightening, under a certain condition of spiritual excitement, of what a man has to say, in such a manner as to add dignity and distinction to it.
More Matthew Arnold Quotes
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Culture, the acquainting ourselves with the best that has been known and said in the world, and thus with the history of the human spirit.
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Home of lost causes, and forsaken beliefs, and unpopular names, and impossible loyalties!
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Is it so small a thing to have enjoyed the sun, to have lived light in the sky, to have loved, to have thought, to have done?
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It is – last stage of all When we are frozen up within, and quite The phantom of ourselves To hear the world applaud the hollow ghost Which blamed the living man
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The difference between genuine poetry and the poetry of Dryden, Pope, and all their school, is briefly this: their poetry is conceived and composed in their wits, genuine poetry is conceived and composed in the soul.
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Who hesitate and falter life away, and lose tomorrow the ground won today.
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Yes! in the sea of life enisled, With echoing straits between us thrown, Dotting the shoreless watery wild, We mortal millions live alone.
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This strange disease of modern life, With its sick hurry, its divided aims.
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And see all sights from pole to pole, And glance, and nod, and hustle by; And never once possess our soul Before we die.
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One thing only has been lent to youth and age in common–discontent.
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If one were searching for the best means to efface and kill in a whole nation the discipline of self-respect, the feeling for what is elevated, he could do no better than take the American newspapers.
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Say, has some wet bird-haunted English lawn Lent it the music of its trees at dawn?
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Life is the application of noble and profound ideas to life.
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For poetry the idea is everything; the rest is a world of illusion, of divine illusion. Poetry attaches its emotion to the idea; the idea is the fact. The strongest part of our religion today is its unconscious poetry.
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Weep bitterly over the dead, for he is worthy, and then comfort thyself; drive heaviness away: thou shall not do him good, but hurt thyself.
MATTHEW ARNOLD