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Art is the desire of a man to express himself, to record the reactions of his personality to the world he lives in.
Amy Lowell
When you came, you were like red wine and honey, and the taste of you burnt my mouth with its sweetness.
Amy Lowell
For books are more than books, they are the life, the very heart and core of ages past, the reason why men worked and died, the essence and quintessence of their lives.
Amy Lowell
Happiness: We rarely feel it. I would buy it, beg it, steal it, Pay in coins of dripping blood For this one.
Amy Lowell
In science, read by preference the newest works. In literature, read the oldest. The classics are always modern.
Amy Lowell
I ask but one thing of you, only one,
That always you will be my dream of you. That never shall I wake to find untrue All this I have believed and rested on,
Forever vanished, like a vision gone Out into the night. Alas, how few There are who strike in us a chord we knew Existed, but so seldom heard its tone We tremble at the half-forgotten sound. The world is full of rude awakenings And heaven-born castles shattered to the ground,
Yet still our human longing vainly clings To a belief in beauty through all wrongs. O stay your hand, and leave my heart its songs!
Amy Lowell