Poetical taste is the only magician whose wand is not broken. No hand, except its own, can dissolve the fabric of beauty in which it dwells. Genii, unknown to Arabian fable, wait at the portal. Whatever is most precious from… — Robert Aris Willmott Copy Share Image
In literature and art memory is a synonym for invention. It is the life-blood of imagination, which faints and dies when the veins are… — Robert Aris Willmott Copy Share
Poetical taste is the only magician whose wand is not broken. No hand, except its own, can dissolve the fabric of beauty in which… — Robert Aris Willmott Copy Share
Some gifted adventurer is always sailing round the world of art and science, to bring home costly merchandise from every port. — Robert Aris Willmott Copy Share
Taste is not stationary. It grows every day, and is improved by cultivation, as a good temper is refined by religion. In its most… — Robert Aris Willmott Copy Share
The gloomy recess of an ecclesiastical library is like a harbor, into which a far-traveling curiosity has sailed with its freight, and cast anchor.… — Robert Aris Willmott Copy Share
Romance is the truth of imagination and boyhood. Homer's horses clear the world at a bound. The child's eye needs no horizon to its… — Robert Aris Willmott Copy Share
The advice of a scholar, whose piles of learning were set on fire by imagination, is never to be forgotten. Proportion an hour's reflection… — Robert Aris Willmott Copy Share
The drama embraces and applies all the beauties and decorations of poetry. The sister arts attend and adorn it. Painting, architecture, and music are… — Robert Aris Willmott Copy Share
From numberless books the fluttering reader, idle and inconstant, bears away the bloom that only clings to the outer leaf; but genius has its… — Robert Aris Willmott Copy Share
The history of men of science has one peculiar advantage, as it shows the importance of little things in producing great results. Smeaton learned… — Robert Aris Willmott Copy Share
Whatever is pure is also simple. It does not keep the eye on itself. The observer forgets the window in the landscape it displays.… — Robert Aris Willmott Copy Share
