There is no such thing as a dumb poet or a handless painter. The essence of an artist is that he should be articulate.
Algernon Charles SwinburneRead
The highest spiritual quality, the noblest property of mind a man can have, is this of loyalty ... a man with no loyalty in him, with no sense of love or reverence or devotion due to something outside and above his poor daily life, with its pains and pleasures, profits and losses, is as evil a case as man can be.
Interpretation
Loyalty is the highest virtue a person can embody, as it connects them to something greater than themselves.
In this quote, Swinburne emphasizes that loyalty is a fundamental moral quality that elevates the human spirit. He suggests that without loyalty, love, reverence, and a sense of devotion to something beyond our daily struggles, an individual is morally deficient and spiritually poor, representing a grave failure of character.
In practice
During a graduation speech to inspire students about the importance of values in life.
There is no such thing as a dumb poet or a handless painter. The essence of an artist is that he should be articulate.
For the crown of our life as it closes Is darkness, the fruit thereof dust; No thorns go as deep as a rose's, And love is more cruel than lust. Time turns the old days to derision, Our loves into corpses or wives; And marriage and death and division Make barren our lives.
Wan February with weeping cheer,_x000D_ _x000D_ Whose cold hand guides the youngling year_x000D_ _x000D_ Down misty roads of mire and rime,_x000D_ _x000D_ Before thy pale and fitful face_x000D_ _x000D_ The shrill wind shifts the clouds apace_x000D_ _x000D_ Through skies the morning scarce may climb._x000D_ _x000D_ Thine eyes are thick with heavy tears,_x000D_ _x000D_ But lit with hopes that light the year's.
Before the beginning of years There came to the making of man Time with a gift of tears, Grief with a glass that ran, Pleasure with pain for leaven, Summer with flowers that fell, Remembrance fallen from heaven, And Madness risen from hell, Strength without hands to smite, Love that endures for a breath; Night, the shadow of light, And Life, the shadow of death.
I that have love and no more_x000D_ _x000D_ Give you but love of you, sweet;_x000D_ _x000D_ He that hath more, let him give;_x000D_ _x000D_ He that hath wings, let him soar;_x000D_ _x000D_ Mine is the heart at your feet_x000D_ _x000D_ Here, that must love you to live.
For winter's rains and ruins are over, And all the season of snows and sins; The days dividing lover and lover, The light that loses, the night that wins; And time remembered isgrief forgotten, And frosts are slain and flowers begotten, And in green underwood and cover Blossom by blossom the spring begins.
Who? Who is but the form following the function of what, and what I am is a man in a mask.
A man sooner or later discovers that he is the master-gardener of his soul, the director of his life.
Everywhere is here and every when is now.
War is not a life: it is a situation, one which may neither be ignored nor accepted.
We have a limit, a very discouraging, humiliating limit: death.
Oh child, your language is so utterly simple and limited that it has the affect of extreme complication. -Aunt Beast
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