You may choose your words like a connoisseur, _x000D_ And polish it up with art, _x000D_ But the word that sways, and stirs, and stays, _x000D_ Is the word that comes from the heart.
Interpretation
Words from the heart resonate more deeply than those crafted meticulously.
This quote emphasizes the power of authenticity in communication. While one can skillfully choose and refine words, it is the sincere and heartfelt expression that truly impacts others, as it evokes genuine emotions and connections.
In practice
In a speech about leadership, I would use this quote to emphasize the importance of authentic communication.
Sweep up the debris of decaying faith; _x000D_ Sweep down the cobwebs of worn-out out beliefs, _x000D_ And throw your soul wide open to the light of reason and of knowledge. _x000D_ Be not afraid _x000D_ To thrust aside half-truths and grasp the whole.
I am the voice of the voiceless; Through me the dumb shall speak. Till the deaf world's ears be made to hear. The wrongs of the wordless weak. And I am my brothers keeper, And I will fight his fights; And speak the words for beast and bird. Till the world shall set things right.
A weed is but an unloved flower.
So many gods, so many creeds, so many paths that wind and wind while just the art of being kind is all the sad world needs.
'Tis easy enough to be pleasant, When life flows along like a song; But the man worth while is the one who will smile when everything goes dead wrong.
Do you wish the world were happy? Then remember day by day, just to scatter seeds of kindness as you pass along the way. . . .
The smallest feline is a masterpiece.
I'm here to make good pictures. If I don't see it, I won't touch it. I may not make a good picture, but I still gotta believe in it!
What's swinging in words? If a guy makes you pat your foot and if you feel it down your back, you don't have to ask anybody if that's good music or not. You can always feel it.
Writers collect stories of rituals: John Cheever putting on a jacket and tie to go down to the basement, where he kept a desk near the boiler room. Keats buttoning up his clean white shirt to write in, after work.
The whole Mediterranean, the sculpture, the palm, the gold beads, the bearded heroes, the wine, the ideas, the ships, the moonlight, the winged gorgons, the bronze men, the philosophers - all of it seems to rise in the sour, pungent taste of these black olives between the teeth. A taste older than meat, older than wine. A taste as old as cold water.
There is no must in art because art is free.
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