Greatness is a spiritual condition worthy to excite love, interest, and admiration; and the outward proof of possessing greatness is that we excite love, interest, and admiration.
MATTHEW ARNOLDHowever, if I shall live to be eighty I shall probably be the only person left in England who reads anything but newspapers and scientific publications.
More Matthew Arnold Quotes
-
-
Truth sits upon the lips of dying men.
MATTHEW ARNOLD -
Greatness is a spiritual condition.
MATTHEW ARNOLD -
Culture being a pursuit of our total perfection by means of getting to know, on all the matters which most concern us, the best which has been thought and said in the world.
MATTHEW ARNOLD -
For the creation of a masterwork of literature two powers must concur, the power of the man and the power of the moment, and the man is not enough without the moment.
MATTHEW ARNOLD -
Resolve to be thyself: and know that he who finds himself, loses his misery.
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 -
Now the great winds shoreward blow Now the salt tides seaward flow Now the wild white horses play Champ and chafe and toss in the spray.
MATTHEW ARNOLD -
All knowledge is interesting to a wise man, and the knowledge of nature is interesting to all men.
MATTHEW ARNOLD -
I am bound by my own definition of criticism : a disinterested endeavour to learn and propagate the best that is known and thought in the world.
MATTHEW ARNOLD -
However, if I shall live to be eighty I shall probably be the only person left in England who reads anything but newspapers and scientific publications.
MATTHEW ARNOLD -
And 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 ARNOLD -
To have the sense of creative activity is the great happiness and the great proof of being alive.
MATTHEW ARNOLD -
Say, has some wet bird-haunted English lawn Lent it the music of its trees at dawn?
MATTHEW ARNOLD -
The 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 ARNOLD -
With aching hands and bleeding feet We dig and heap, lay stone on stone; We bear the burden and the heat Of the long day, and wish ’twere done. Not till the hours of light return All we have built do we discern.
MATTHEW ARNOLD