“
The beauty we love is very silent. It smiles softly to itself, but never speaks.
— Richard Le Gallienne
poet, journalist, translator, writer
1866 – 1947
The beauty we love is very silent. It smiles softly to itself, but never speaks.
Dear Sister, You dream like mad, you love like tinder, you aspire like a star-struck moth - for what? That you may hive little lyrics, and sell to a publisher for thirty pieces of silver.
Art was a palace once, things great and fair, And strong and holy , found a temple there:
There is something mean in human nature that prefers to think evil, that gives a willing ear and a ready welcome to calumny, a sort of jealousy of goodness and greatness and things of good report.
