A boy in love is not mainly a calf but a poet. Robert Wilson Lynd More Quotes by Robert Wilson Lynd More Quotes From Robert Wilson Lynd We forget that Socrates was famed for wisdom not because he was omniscient but because he realized at the age of seventy that he still knew nothing. Robert Wilson Lynd stills age forget A cat is only technically an animal, being divine. Robert Wilson Lynd cat divine animal Mr. Shaw came for a short time recently to be regarded less as an author than as an incident in the European War. In the opinion of many people it seemed as if the Allies were fighting against a combination composed of Germany, Austria-Hungary, Turkey, and Mr. Shaw. Robert Wilson Lynd turkeys fighting war The happiness even of the naturalist depends in some measure upon his ignorance, which still leaves him new worlds of this kind to conquer. He may have reached the very Z of knowledge in the books, but he still feels half ignorant until he has confirmed each bright particular with his eyes. Robert Wilson Lynd eye ignorance book Most human beings are quite likable if you don't see too much of them. Robert Wilson Lynd likeable too-much humans When people complain of the decay of manners they have in mind not the impudent abbreviations of the crowd, but the decline in bowing and scraping and in speaking of one's employer as "the master." What the rich mean by the good manners of the poor is usually not civility, but servility. Robert Wilson Lynd good-man mean people In order to see birds it is necessary to become a part of the silence. Robert Wilson Lynd nature motivational inspirational The art of writing history is the art of emphasizing the significant facts at the expense of the insignificant. And it is the same in every field of knowledge. Knowledge is power only if a man knows what facts not to bother about. Robert Wilson Lynd writing men art It may be that all games are silly. But then, so are humans. Robert Wilson Lynd playing-games silly sports When one has praised Turgenev, however, for the beauty of his character and the beautiful truth of his art, one remembers that he, too, was human and therefore less than perfect. His chief failing was, perhaps, that of all the great artists, he was the most lacking in exuberance. That is why he began to be scorned in a world which rated exuberance higher than beauty or love or pity. Robert Wilson Lynd beautiful character art There is nothing in which the birds differ more from man than the way in which they can build and yet leave a landscape as it was before. Robert Wilson Lynd dog men life We cannot get happiness by striving after it, and yet with an effort we can impart it. Robert Wilson Lynd impart strive effort On the whole, however, the critic is far less of a professional faultfinder than is sometimes imagined. He is first of all a virtue-finder, a singer of praise. He is not concerned with getting rid of dross except in so far as it hides the gold. In other words, the destructive side of criticism is purely a subsidiary affair. None of the best critics have been men of destructive minds. They are like gardeners whose business is more with the flowers than with the weeds. Robert Wilson Lynd weed flower men The mirror that Strindberg held up to Nature was a cracked one. It was cracked in a double sense -- it was crazy. It gave back broken images of a world which it made look like the chaos of a lunatic dream. Robert Wilson Lynd crazy mirrors dream Mystery lies over the sea. Every ship is bound for Thule. Robert Wilson Lynd ships sea lying There are two sorts of curiosity - the momentary and the permanent. The momentary is concerned with the odd appearance on the surface of things. The permanent is attracted by the amazing and consecutive life that flows on beneath the surface of things. Robert Wilson Lynd inspirational life two There are travelers who fear to own delicate hands more than to meet a lion, and soldiers who would rather lose a limb than gain a beautiful nose by artificial methods. Robert Wilson Lynd soldier beautiful hands Keats, it must be remembered, was a sensualist. His poems ... reveal him as a man not altogether free from the vulgarities of sensualism, as well as one who was able to transmute it into perfect literature. Robert Wilson Lynd literature perfect men No man is uninteresting when his hat is blown off and he has to scuttle after it down the street. Robert Wilson Lynd streets hats men Were I a philosopher, I should write a philosophy of toys, showing that nothing else in life need to be taken seriously, and that Christmas Day in the company of children is one of the few occasions on which men become entirely alive. Robert Wilson Lynd xmas christmas children
