Now nature is not at variance with art, nor art with nature; they
being both the servants of his providence. Art is the perfection
of nature. Were the world now as it was the sixth day, there
were yet a chaos. Nature hath made one world, and art another.
In brief, all things are artificial; for nature is the art of
God.
You May Also Like / View all maxioms
We have learned to whittle the Eden Tree to the shape of a
surplice peg,
We have learned read more
We have learned to whittle the Eden Tree to the shape of a
surplice peg,
We have learned to bottle our parent twain in the yelk of an
addled egg.
We know that the tail must wag the dog, for the horse is drawn by
the cart,
But the devil never whoops, as he of old; It's clever, but is it
art?
To sit in the shade on a fine day and look upon verdure is the most perfect refreshment.
To sit in the shade on a fine day and look upon verdure is the most perfect refreshment.
Art is the objectification of feeling, and the subjectification
of nature.
Art is the objectification of feeling, and the subjectification
of nature.
Fragments came floating into his mind like bits of wood drifting down a stream, and he fished them out and read more
Fragments came floating into his mind like bits of wood drifting down a stream, and he fished them out and fitted them together.
There are mystically in our faces certain characters which carry in them the motto of our souls, wherin he that read more
There are mystically in our faces certain characters which carry in them the motto of our souls, wherin he that cannot read A, B, C may read our natures.
What I see in Nature is a magnificent structure that we can comprehend only very imperfectly, and that must fill read more
What I see in Nature is a magnificent structure that we can comprehend only very imperfectly, and that must fill a thinking person with a feeling of humility. This is a genuinely religious feeling that has nothing to do with mysticism
I still get wildly enthusiastic about little things... I play with leaves. I skip down the street and run against read more
I still get wildly enthusiastic about little things... I play with leaves. I skip down the street and run against the wind.
Painters and poets have equal license in regard to everything.
[Lat., Pictoribus atque poetis
Quidlibet audendi semper read more
Painters and poets have equal license in regard to everything.
[Lat., Pictoribus atque poetis
Quidlibet audendi semper fuit aequa potestas.]
Forget not that the earth delights to feel your bare feet and the winds long to play with your hair.
Forget not that the earth delights to feel your bare feet and the winds long to play with your hair.
