Sketches of Great Painters

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Stewart and Kidd Company, 1915 - 263 Seiten
 

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Seite 148 - And only the Master shall praise us. and only the Master shall blame: And no one shall work for money. and no one shall work for fame. But each for the joy of the working. and each. in his separate star. Shall draw the Thing as he sees It for the God of Things as They Are!
Seite 187 - And strictly meditate the thankless Muse? Were it not better done, as others use, To sport with Amaryllis in the shade, Or with the tangles of Neaera's hair?
Seite 192 - Here Reynolds is laid, and, to tell you my mind, He has not left a wiser or better behind. His pencil was striking, resistless, and grand ; His manners were gentle, complying, and bland : Still born to improve us in every part, His pencil our faces, his manners our heart.
Seite 96 - And when the evening mist clothes the riverside with poetry, as with a veil, and the poor buildings lose themselves in the dim sky, and the tall chimneys become campanili, and the warehouses are palaces in the night, and the whole city hangs in the heavens, and fairy-land is before us...
Seite 29 - Bowed by the weight of centuries he leans Upon his hoe and gazes on the ground, The emptiness of ages in his face, And on his back the burden of the world.
Seite 94 - Lindsay ought not to have admitted works into the gallery in which the ill-educated conceit of the artist so nearly approached the aspect of wilful imposture. I have seen, and heard, much of Cockney impudence before now ; but never expected to hear a coxcomb ask two hundred guineas for flinging a pot of paint in the public's face.
Seite 54 - Hers is the head upon which all 'the ends of the world are come,' and the eyelids are a little weary. It is a beauty wrought out from within upon the flesh, the deposit, little cell by cell, of strange thoughts and fantastic reveries and exquisite passions.
Seite 176 - Which made my soul the worshipper and thrall Of earthly art is vain ; how criminal Is that which all men seek unwillingly. Those amorous thoughts which were so lightly dressed, What are they when the double death is nigh ? The one I know for sure, the other dread. Painting nor sculpture now can lull to rest My soul, that turns to His great love on high, Whose arms to clasp us on the cross were spread.
Seite 244 - Oh yet we trust that somehow good Will be the final goal of ill To pangs of nature, sins of will, Defects of doubt, and taints of blood ; That nothing walks with aimless feet ; That not one life shall be...

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