Say, has some wet bird-haunted English lawn Lent it the music of its trees at dawn?
MATTHEW ARNOLDSay, has some wet bird-haunted English lawn Lent it the music of its trees at dawn?
MATTHEW ARNOLDKnow, man hath all which Nature hath, but more, And in that more lie all his hopes of good.
MATTHEW ARNOLDWhoever sets himself to see things as they are will find himself one of a very small circle but it is only by this small circle resolutely doing its own work that adequate ideas will ever get current at all.
MATTHEW ARNOLDA wanderer is man from his birth. He was born in a ship On the breast of the river of Time.
MATTHEW ARNOLDTime, so complain’d of, Who to no one man Shows partiality, Brings round to all men Some undimm’d hours.
MATTHEW ARNOLDCulture, then, is a study of perfection, and perfection which insists on becoming something rather than in having something, in an inward condition of the mind and spirit, not in an outward set of circumstances.
MATTHEW ARNOLDFor 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.
MATTHEW ARNOLDUse your gifts faithfully, and they shall be enlarged; practice what you know, and you shall attain to higher knowledge.
MATTHEW ARNOLDAnd long we try in vain to speak and act Our hidden self, and what we say and do Is eloquent, is well — but ’tis not true!
MATTHEW ARNOLDThe power of the Latin classic is in character , that of the Greek is in beauty . Now character is capable of being taught, learnt, and assimilated: beauty hardly.
MATTHEW ARNOLDAll knowledge is interesting to a wise man, and the knowledge of nature is interesting to all men.
MATTHEW ARNOLDTo have the sense of creative activity is the great happiness and the great proof of being alive.
MATTHEW ARNOLDFor this is the true strength of guilty kings, When they corrupt the souls of those they rule.
MATTHEW ARNOLDThe sophist sneers: Fool, take Thy pleasure, right or wrong! The pious wail: Forsake A world these sophists throng! Be neither saint nor sophist-led, but be a man.
MATTHEW ARNOLDYes! in the sea of life enisled, With echoing straits between us thrown, Dotting the shoreless watery wild, We mortal millions live alone.
MATTHEW ARNOLDOthers abide our question. Thou art free. We ask and ask. Thou smilest and art still, Out-topping knowledge.
MATTHEW ARNOLD