But what is Hope? Nothing but the paint on the face of Existence; the least touch of truth rubs it off, and then we see what a hollow-cheeked harlot we have got hold of.
Lord ByronRead
Muse of the many twinkling feet, whose charms are now extending up from legs to arms.
Interpretation
This quote celebrates the beauty and charm of dance and physical expression.
Lord Byron's quote reflects the enchanting allure of dance, emphasizing its ability to captivate the observer as it showcases the grace and elegance of movement. Through the imagery of twinkling feet extending from legs to arms, Byron highlights the joy and artistic expression found in physical artistry, suggesting that the beauty of dance transcends mere footwork to become a holistic experience that encompasses the entire body.
In practice
In a speech about the importance of dance in culture, one might quote Byron to illustrate the art's enchanting qualities.
But what is Hope? Nothing but the paint on the face of Existence; the least touch of truth rubs it off, and then we see what a hollow-cheeked harlot we have got hold of.
It is the lava of the imagination whose eruption prevents an earthquake.
For what were all these country patriots born? To hunt, and vote, and raise the price of corn?
Absence - that common cure of love.
Her great merit is finding out mine; there is nothing so amiable as discernment.
But words are things, and a small drop of ink, Falling like dew, upon a thought, produces That which makes thousands, perhaps millions, think.
Each work of art excludes the world, concentrates attention on itself. For the time it is the only thing worth doing -to do just that; be it a sonnet, a statue, a landscape, an outline head of Caesar, or an oration. Presently we return to the sight of another that globes itself into a whole as did the first, for example, a beautiful garden; and nothing seems worth doing in life but laying out a garden.
My goal in life is to give to the world what I was lucky to receive: the ecstasy of divine union through my music and my dance.
Creation exists only in the unforeseen made necessary.
The sound of colors is so definite that it would be hard to find anyone who would express bright yellow with base notes, or dark lake with the treble.
A writer's job is to imagine everything so personally that the fiction is as vivid as memories.
Write whatever way you like. Fiction is made of words on a page; reality is made of something else. It doesn't matter how "real" your story is, or how "made up": what matters is its necessity.
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