Do good by stealth, and blush to find it fame.
Alexander PopeRead
What woeful stuff this madrigal would be, In some starved hackney sonneteer, or me! But let a lord once own the happy lines, How the wit brightens! how the style refines!
Interpretation
The quote reflects on how the value of poetry is heightened by its association with status and privilege.
In this quote, Alexander Pope critiques the perception of poetry and its worth depending on the reputation of the author rather than the quality of the work itself. He suggests that a piece of writing, regardless of its artistic merit, gains significance and appeal when it is affiliated with someone of high social standing, illustrating the disparity between genuine artistry and social elitism in the realm of literature.
In practice
In a speech about the value of art, one could use this quote to highlight the influence of social status on artistic perception.
Do good by stealth, and blush to find it fame.
What dire offence from am'rous causes springs, What mighty contests rise from trivial things.
Fair tresses man's imperial race ensnare; And beauty draws us with a single hair.
An honest man's the noblest work of God.
One thought of thee puts all the pomp to flight;_x000D_ _x000D_ Priests, tapers, temples, swim before my sight.
Who breaks a butterfly on a wheel?
We've got people looking at our seamy side and our sad side a lot of the time because that's easier. It's much more difficult to make a film about happiness with lots of jokes in it.
The radio makes hideous sounds.
The relationship between the public and the artist is complex and difficult to explain. There is a fine line between using this critical energy creatively and pandering to it.
I view my hair and clothes as functional art.
What was any art but a mould in which to imprison for a moment the shining elusive element which is life itself - life hurrying past us and running away, too strong to stop, too sweet to lose.
Like I can't cry for myself so I will let this song take all of the things inside I can't let anyone else see and offer it up, as if the sound were some kind of god, and my pain is some kind of sacrifice.
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