Nothing begins, and nothing ends,
That is not paid with moan;
For we are born in others' pain,
And perish in our own.
The mark of rank in nature is capacity for pain,
And the anguish of the singer marks the sweetness of the strain.
A man of pleasure is a man of pains.
Young-Night Thoughts. Night VIII. L. 793.
When pain can't bless, heaven quits us in despair.
- PAINTING ##
PAINTING
And those who paint 'em truest praise 'em most.
As certain as the Correggiosity of Correggio.
Augustine Birrell—Obiter Dicta. Emerson.
Phrase found also in Sterne—Tristram
Shandy. Ch. XII.
| seealso = (See also Carlyle)
| topic = Painting
| page = 576
}}
{{Hoyt quote
| num =
| text = <poem>From the mingled strength of shade and light
A new creation rises to my sight,
Such heav'nly figures from his pencil flow,
So warm with light his blended colors glow.
The glowing portraits, fresh from life, that bring
Home to our hearts the truth from which they
spring.
| author = Byron
| work = Monody on the death of the Rt. Hon.
R. B. Sheridan. St. 3.
If they could forget for a moment the correggiosity of Correggio and the learned babble of the sale-room and varnishing Auctioneer.
Cahlylb—Frederick the Great. Bk.W. Ch.III.
| seealso = (See also Birrell)
| topic = Painting
| page = 576
}}
{{Hoyt quote
| num =
| text = <poem>A picture is a poem without words.
Cornificus—Anet. ad Her. 4. 28.
Paint me as I am. If you leave out the scars
and wrinkles, I will not pay you a shilling.
Cromwell—Remark to the Painter, Lely.
| seealso = (See also {{sc|Fields, Goldsmith, La Rochefoucauld)
Hard features every bungler can command:
To draw true beauty shows a master's hand.
Dryden—To Mr. Lee, on his Alexander. L. 53.
Pictures must not be too picturesque.
Emerson—Essays. Of Art.
"Paint me as I am," said Cromwell,
"Rough with age and gashed with wars;
Show my visage as you find it,
Less than truth my soul abhors."
James T. Fields—Ore. a Portrait of Cromwell.
| seealso = (See also {{sc|Cromwell)
A flattering painter, who made it his care
To draw men as they ought to be, not as they are.
| author = Goldsmith
| work = Retaliation^ L. 63.
| seealso = (See also Cromwell)
{{Hoyt quote
| num = 15
| text = The fellow mixes blood with his colors.
Said by Guido Reni of Rubens.
| seealso = (See also Opte)
| topic = Painting
| page = 576
}}
{{Hoyt quote
| num =
| text = <poem>One picture in ten thousand, perhaps, ought to
live in the applause of mankind, from generation
to generation until the colors fade and blacken
out of sight or the canvas rot entirely away.
Hawthorne—Marble Faun. Bk. II. Ch. XII.
Well, something must be done for May,
The time is drawing nigh—
To figure in the Catalogue,
And woo the public eye.
Something I must invent and paint;
But oh my wit is not
Like one of those kind substantives
That answer Who and What?
Hood—The Painter Puzzled.
| author =
| work =
| place =
| note =
| topic = Painting
| page = 576
}}
{{Hoyt quote
| num = 15
| text = Delphinum sylvis appingit, fluctibus aprum.
He paints a dolphin in the woods, a boar in
the waves.
Horace—Ars Poetica. XXX.
He that seeks popularity in art closes the door
on his own genius: as he must needs paint for
other minds, and not for his own.
Mrs. Jameson—Memoirs and Essays. Washington Allston.
'
Nequeo monstrare et sentio tantum.
I only feel, but want the power to paint.
Juvenal—Satires. VII. 56.
The only good copies are those which exhibit
the defects of bad originals.
La Rochefoucauld—Maxims. No. 136.
The picture that approaches sculpture nearest
Is the best picture.
I-ongfellow—Michael Angela. Pt. II. 4.
Vain is the hope by colouring to display
The bright effulgence of the noontide ray
Or paint the full-orb'd ruler of the skies
With pencils dipt in dull terrestrial dyes.
Mason—Fresnoy's Art of Painting.
I mix them with my brains, sir.
John Opie. Answer when asked with what he
mixed his colors. See Samuel Smiles—Self
Help. Chap. V.
| seealso = (See also Gumo Reni)
| topic = Painting
| page = 576
}}
{{Hoyt quote
| num =
| text = <poem>He best can paint them who shall feel them most.
| author = Pope
| work = Ehisa and Abelard. Last line.
Lely on animated canvas stole
The sleepy eye, that spoke the melting soul.
| author = Pope
| work = Second Book of Horace. Ep. I. L. 149.
