Sweet, can I sing you the song of your kisses? How soft is this one, how subtle this is, How fluttering swift as a bird's kiss that is, As a bird that taps at a leafy lattice; How this one… — Arthur Symons Copy Share Image
As perfume doth remain In the folds where it hath lain, So the thought of you, remaining Deeply folded in my brain, Will not leave me: all things leave me: You remain. — Arthur Symons Copy Share Image
A place has almost the shyness of a person, with strangers; and its secret is not to be surprised by a too direct interrogation. — Arthur Symons Copy Share Image
My life is like a music-hall,Where, in the impotence of rage,Chained by enchantment to my stall,I see myself upon the stageDance to amuse a… — Arthur Symons Copy Share Image
The clamours of spring are the same old delicate noises, The earth renews its magical youth at a breath. — Arthur Symons Copy Share Image
Without charm there can be no fine literature, as there can be no perfect flower without fragrance. — Arthur Symons Copy Share Image
I know the woman has no soul, I know The woman has no possibilities Of soul or mind or heart, but merely is The… — Arthur Symons Copy Share Image
God, like all highest things, Hides light in shade, And in the night his visitings To sleep and dreams are clearliest made. — Arthur Symons Copy Share Image
A realist, in Venice, would become a romantic by mere faithfulness to what he saw before him. — Arthur Symons Copy Share Image
The English mist is always at work like a subtle painter, and London is a vast canvas prepared for the mist to work on. — Arthur Symons Copy Share Image
I had my dreams of Venice, but nothing that I had dreamed was as impossible as what I found. — Arthur Symons Copy Share Image
Hardly any one is able to see what is before him, just as it is in itself. He comes expecting one thing, he finds… — Arthur Symons Copy Share Image
Sweet, can I sing you the song of your kisses? How soft is this one, how subtle this is, How fluttering swift as a… — Arthur Symons Copy Share Image
