Elysian beauty, melancholy grace, Brought from a pensive though a happy place.
Interpretation
The quote reflects the interplay of beauty and melancholy, suggesting a profound appreciation for emotions and experiences.
In this quote, William Wordsworth expresses the idea that true beauty often arises from a combination of joy and sadness. The 'Elysian beauty' evokes images of paradise and perfection, while 'melancholy grace' introduces a sense of depth and contemplation. Wordsworth suggests that these contrasting emotions together create a richer, more meaningful experience, drawing from both happiness and reflective thought.
In practice
This quote can be used during a discussion on the role of emotions in art.
For mightier far_x000D_ _x000D_ Than strength of nerve or sinew, or the sway_x000D_ _x000D_ Of magic potent over sun and star,_x000D_ _x000D_ Is love, though oft to agony distrest,_x000D_ _x000D_ And though his favourite be feeble woman's breast.
By all means sometimes be alone; salute thyself; see what thy soul doth wear; dare to look in thy chest; and tumble up and down what thou findest there.
There was a time when meadow, grove, and stream,_x000D_ _x000D_ The earth, and every common sight,_x000D_ _x000D_ To me did seem_x000D_ _x000D_ Apparelled in celestial light,_x000D_ _x000D_ The glory and the freshness of a dream.
Books are yours, Within whose silent chambers treasure lies Preserved from age to age; more precious far Than that accumulated store of gold And orient gems, which, for a day of need, The Sultan hides deep in ancestral tombs. These hoards of truth you can unlock at will.
The world is too much with us; late and soon, Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers: Little we see in Nature that is ours; We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon! The Sea that bares her bosom to the moon; The winds that will be howling at all hours, And are up-gathered now like sleeping flowers; For this, for everything, we are out of tune.
Shalt show us how divine a thing A woman may be made.
Music is the healing force of the universe.
Nobody sang better than my mom. That's why I've never even thought of singing for singing sake. I've always thought of a song as an acting piece, as a way to say something.
Unless artists can remember what it was to be a little boy, they are only half complete as artist and as man.
I regard the theatre as a serious business, one that makes or should make man more human, which is to say, less alone.
Whatever's merely willful, and not miraculous (be never it so skilful) must wither fail and cease - but better than to grow beauty knows no.
Beautiful things don't ask for attention.
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