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Matthew Arnold
Culture is acquainting...
Culture is acquainting ourselves with the best that has been known and said in the world, and thus with the history of...
Resolve to be...
Resolve to be thyself: and know, that he
Who finds himself, loses his misery.
For the creation...
For the creation of a master-work of literature two powers must concur, the power of the man and the power of the...
Genius is mainly...
Genius is mainly an affair of energy, and poetry is mainly an affair of genius; therefore a nation whose spirit is...
One thing only...
One thing only has been lent to youth and age in common -- discontent.
Source: In...
He will find...
He will find one English book and one only, where, as in the Iliad itself, perfect plainness of speech is allied with...
Is it so...
Is it so small a thing
To have enjoy'd the sun,
To have lived light in the spring,
To have loved, to have...
Journalism is literature...
Journalism is literature in a hurry.
Source: In Webster's Electronic Quotebase, ed....
Conduct is three-fourths...
Conduct is three-fourths of our life and its largest concern.
Source: Literature...
Force and right...
Force and right are the governors of this world; force till right is ready.
Source:...
I am bound...
I am bound by my own definition of criticism: a disinterested endeavour to learn and propagate the best that is known...
We cannot kindle...
We cannot kindle when we will
The fire which in the heart resides,
The spirit bloweth and is still,
In...
Poetry is at...
Poetry is at bottom a criticism of life.
Source: In The Speaker's Electronic...
The pursuit of...
The pursuit of perfection, then, is the pursuit of sweetness and light.
Source:...
With close-lipp'd Patience...
With close-lipp'd Patience for our only friend,
Sad Patience, too near neighbour to...
Roam on! The...
Roam on! The light we sought is shining still.
Dost thou ask proof ? Our tree yet crowns the hill,
Our Scholar...
The difference between...
The difference between genuine poetry and the poetry of Dryden, Pope, and all their school, is briefly this: their...
It always seems...
It always seems to me that the right sphere for Shelley's genius was the sphere of music, not of...
This strange disease...
This strange disease of modern life,
With its sick hurry, its divided aims.
Strew on her...
Strew on her roses, roses,
And never a spray of yew.
In quiet she reposes:
Ah! would that I did...
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