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Arthur Symons
Quote #3
My soul is like this cloudy, flaming opal ring.
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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 mon…
Here in a little lonely room I am master of earth and sea, And the planets come to me.
And I would have, now love is over, An end to all, an end: I cannot, having been your lover, Stoop to become your friend!
Criticism is properly the rod of divination: a hazel switch for the discovery of buried treasure, not a birch twig for the castigation of o…
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.
I have loved colours, and not flowers; Their motion, not the swallows wings; And wasted more than half my hours Without the comradeship of …
I heard the sighing of the reeds At noontide and at evening, And some old dream I had forgotten I seemed to be remembering.
They weave a slow andante as in sleep, Scaled yellow, swampy black, plague-spotted white; With blue and lidless eyes at watch they keep A t…
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