Maxioms by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Sculpture is more than painting. It is greater
To raise the dead to life than to create
read more
Sculpture is more than painting. It is greater
To raise the dead to life than to create
Phantoms that seem to live.
Oh, there is something in that voice that reaches
The innermost recesses of my spirit!
Oh, there is something in that voice that reaches
The innermost recesses of my spirit!
Sculpture is more divine, and more like Nature,
That fashions all her works in high relief,
And read more
Sculpture is more divine, and more like Nature,
That fashions all her works in high relief,
And that is Sculpture. This vast ball, the Earth,
Was moulded out of clay, and baked in fire;
Men, women, and all animals that breathe
Are statues, and not paintings.
The twilight is sad and cloudy,
The wind blows wild and free,
And like the wings of read more
The twilight is sad and cloudy,
The wind blows wild and free,
And like the wings of sea-birds
Flash the white caps of the sea.
Our pleasures and our discontents,
Are rounds by which we may ascend.
Our pleasures and our discontents,
Are rounds by which we may ascend.
