Arthur Symons Professions : Poet Born : February 28, 1865 Died : January 22, 1945 Browse All Authors Top 39 quotes by Arthur Symons A place has almost the shyness of a person, with strangers; and its secret is not to be surprised by a too direct interrogation. Arthur Symons stranger secret travel I heard the sighing of the reedsAt noontide and at evening,And some old dream I had forgottenI seemed to be remembering. Arthur Symons evening dream remember My life is like a music-hall,Where, in the impotence of rage,Chained by enchantment to my stall,I see myself upon the stageDance to amuse a music-hall. Arthur Symons enchantment life-is-like rage The wind is rising on the sea,The windy white foam-dancers leap;And the sea moans uneasily,And turns to sleep, and cannot sleep. Arthur Symons sea sleep wind I have laid sorrow to sleep;Love sleeps.She who oft made me weepNow weeps. Arthur Symons sorrow made sleep Hardly any one is able to see what is before him, just as it is in itself. He comes expecting one thing, he finds another thing, he sees through the veil of his preconception, he criticizes before he has apprehended, he condemns without allowing his instinct the chance of asserting itself. Arthur Symons veils vision able What we ask of him is, that he should find out for us more than we can find out for ourselves... He must have the passion of a lover. Arthur Symons passion lovers criticism The making of one's life into art is, after all, the first duty and privilege of every man. Arthur Symons men art firsts I have loved colours, and not flowers;Their motion, not the swallows wings;And wasted more than half my hoursWithout the comradeship of things. Arthur Symons flower half wings The gray-green stretch of sandy grass,Indefinitely desolate;A sea of lead, a sky of slate;Already autumn in the air, alas!One stark monotony of stone,The long hotel, acutely white,Against the after-sunset lightWithers gray-green, and takes the grass's tone. Arthur Symons autumn sunset air All art is a form of artifice.For in art there can be no prejudices. Arthur Symons prejudice form art I know the woman has no soul, I know The woman has no possibilities Of soul or mind or heart, but merely is The masterpiece of flesh: well, be it so. It is her flesh that I adore; I go Thirsting afresh to drain her empty kiss. I know she cannot love: it is not this My vanquished heart implores in overthrow. Tyrannously I crave, I crave alone, Her splendid body, Earth's most eloquent Music, divinest human harmony; Her body now a silent instrument, That 'neath my touch shall wake and make for me The strains I have but dreamed of, never known. Arthur Symons women kissing heart The desert of virginity Aches in the hotness of her mouth. Arthur Symons ache desert mouths Sweet, can I sing you the song of your kisses? How soft is this one, how subtle this is, How fluttering swift as a bird's kiss that is, As a bird that taps at a leafy lattice; How this one clings and how that uncloses From bud to flower in the way of roses. Arthur Symons crush song love God, like all highest things, Hides light in shade, And in the night his visitings To sleep and dreams are clearliest made. Arthur Symons dream sleep night It is in their eyes that their magic resides. Arthur Symons magic cat eye The dead are happy, having no desire. I rise and fall, and rise and fall again, Something is in me, famishing for bread, Baffled and unappeasable as fire. Arthur Symons fire desire fall Leave words to them whom words, not doings, move. Arthur Symons doings moving But we have been taught to see before our eyes have found out a way of seeing for themselves. Arthur Symons vision eye way Similar Authors Abdellatif Laabi poet Ihara Saikaku poet Abram Joseph Ryan poet Ingeborg Bachmann poet Izumi Shikibu poet Bion of Smyrna poet All Authors