Whoever 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 ARNOLDYes! in the sea of life enisled, With echoing straits between us thrown, Dotting the shoreless watery wild, We mortal millions live alone.
More Matthew Arnold Quotes
-
-
It is a very great thing to be able to think as you like; but, after all, an important question remains: what you think.
MATTHEW ARNOLD -
All the biblical miracles will at last disappear with the progress of science.
MATTHEW ARNOLD -
Life is not having and getting, but being and becoming
MATTHEW ARNOLD -
Bald as the bare mountain tops are bald, with a baldness full of grandeur.
MATTHEW ARNOLD -
Force and right are the governors of this world; force till right is ready.
MATTHEW ARNOLD -
Fate gave, what Chance shall not control, His sad lucidity of soul.
MATTHEW ARNOLD -
Not deep the poet sees, but wide.
MATTHEW ARNOLD -
Style … 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.
MATTHEW ARNOLD -
I keep saying, Shakespeare, Shakespeare, you are as obscure as life is.
MATTHEW ARNOLD -
To have the sense of creative activity is the great happiness and the great proof of being alive.
MATTHEW ARNOLD -
And that sweet city with her dreaming spires, She needs not June for beauty’s heightening.
MATTHEW ARNOLD -
Nature’s great law, and the law of all men’s minds? To its own impulse every creature stirs: Live by thy light, and Earth will live by hers.
MATTHEW ARNOLD -
The need of expansion is as genuine an instinct in man as the need in a plant for the light, or the need in man himself for going upright. The love of liberty is simply the instinct in man for expansion.
MATTHEW ARNOLD -
Time, so complain’d of, Who to no one man Shows partiality, Brings round to all men Some undimm’d hours.
MATTHEW ARNOLD -
Ah! two desires toss about The poet’s feverish blood; One drives him to the world without, And one to solitude.
MATTHEW ARNOLD