Matthew Arnold Quotes

The grand style arises in poetry, when a noble nature, poetically gifted, treats with simplicity or with severity a serious subject.

Matthew Arnold

Of these two literatures, as of the intellect of Europe in general, the main effort, for now many years, has been a critical effort; the endeavour, in all branches of knowledge theology, philosophy, history, art, science to see the object as in itself it really is.

Matthew Arnold

The translator of Homer should above all be penetrated by a sense of four qualities of his author: that he is eminently rapid; that he is eminently plain and direct both in the evolution of his thought and in the expression of it, that is, both in his syntax and in his words; that he is eminently plain and direct in the substance of his thought, that is, in his matter and ideas; and, finally, that he is eminently noble.

Matthew Arnold

O born in days when wits were fresh and clear, And life ran gaily as the sparkling Thames; Before this strange disease of modern life, With its sick hurry, its divided aims, Its heads oertaxd, its palsied hearts, was rife.

Matthew Arnold

And amongst us one, Who most has sufferd, takes dejectedly His seat upon the intellectual throne.

Matthew Arnold

Thee at the ferry Oxford riders blithe, Returning home on summer-nights, have met Crossing the stripling Thames at Bab-lock-hithe, Trailing in the cool stream thy fingers wet, As the punts rope chops round.

Matthew Arnold

The day in his hotness, The strife with the palm; The night in her silence, The stars in their calm.

Matthew Arnold

So, loath to suffer mute. We, peopling the void air, Make Gods to whom to impute The ills we ought to bear.

Matthew Arnold

Nature, with equal mind, Sees all her sons at play Sees man control the wind, The wind sweep man away.

Matthew Arnold

We do not what we ought, What we ought not, we do, And lean upon the thought That chance will bring us through.

Matthew Arnold

Thou hast no right to bliss.

Matthew Arnold

The sophist sneers: Fool, take Thy pleasure, right or wrong! The pious wail: Forsake A world these sophists throng! Be neither saint nor sophist-led, but be a man.

Matthew Arnold

Hither and thither spins The wind-borne mirroring soul, A thousand glimpses wins, And never sees a whole.

Matthew Arnold

Time may restore us in his course Goethes sage mind and Byrons force; But where will Europes latter hour Again find Wordsworths healing power?

Matthew Arnold

Wordsworth has gone from us and ye, Ah, may ye feel his voice as we! He too upon a wintry clime Had fallen on this iron time Of doubts, disputes, distractions, fears.

Matthew Arnold
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