Top Lyre Quotes

Browse top 44 famous quotes and sayings about Lyre by most favorite authors.

Favorite Lyre Quotes

1. "It is idle to play the lyre for an ass."
Author: Ambrose Of Milan
2. "Conversation may be compared to a lyre with seven chords - philosophy, art, poetry, love, scandal, and the weather."
Author: Anna Jameson
3. "A muvészi tevékenység nem más, mint kész tételek dedukciója. A muvészek késobb már semmi újat nem fedeznek fel, csak a kezdetben gondjaikra bízott titkot tanulják meg egyre jobban megérteni; alkotóerejük szüntelen exegézis, egyetlen versfeladványhoz írt kommentár. A muvészet egyébként nem oldja fel teljes egészében a titkot, az végül is megfejthetetlen marad. A csomó, amelyre a lelkünket kötötték, nem hamis csomó, amely egy rántással kioldható. Ellenkezoleg, egyre jobban megszorul. Babrálunk vele, követjük a szálat, keressük a végét, és e babrálásból megszületik a muvészet."
Author: Bruno Schulz
4. "When Laurent turned to face him, hiseyes were dark. His lips were parteduncertainly. He had lifted his hand to hisown shoulder, as though chasing a ghosttouch there. He did not look exactlyrelaxed, but the movement did look alittle easier."
Author: C.S. Pacat
5. "I'm sorry," said Damen.Laurent gave him a strange look. "Whywould you apologise to me?"He couldn't answer. Not with the truth.He said, "I didn't understand what beingKing meant to you.""What's that?""An end to fighting."Laurent's expression changed, the subtlesignifiers of shock imperfectlyrepressed, and Damen felt it in his ownbody, a new pull in his chest at the lookin Laurent's dark eyes."
Author: C.S. Pacat
6. "It's possible, and I stress possible, that such a moment may never come: you may not fall in love, you may not be able to or you may not wish to give your whole life to anyone, and, like me, you may turn forty-five one day and realize that you're no longer young and you have never found a choir of cupids with lyres or a bed of white roses leading to the altar. The only revenge left for you then will be to steal from life the pleasure of firm and passionate flesh - a pleasure that evaporates faster than good intentions and is the nearest thing to heaven you will find in this stinking world where everything decays, beginning with beauty and ending with memory."
Author: Carlos Ruiz Zafón
7. "When wombats do inspire/I strike my disused lyre"
Author: Christina Rossetti
8. "Fire he sang,that trees fear, and I, a tree, rejoiced in its flames.New buds broke forth from me though it was full summer. As though his lyre (now I knew its name) were both frost and fire, its chords flamedup to the crown of me. I was seed again. I was fern in the swamp. I was coal. ("A Tree Telling of Orpheus")"
Author: Denise Levertov
9. "If I could dwell where Israfel hath dwelt and he where I he might not sing so wildly well a mortal melody while a bolder note then this might swell from my lyre in the sky."
Author: Edgar Allan Poe
10. "Az elso pergotuz rámutatott a tévedésünkre, s rommá lotte azt a világnézetet, amelyre bennünket tanítottak. Amikor ok még mindig csak írtak és beszéltek, mi már tábori kórházakat és haldoklókat láttunk – amikor ok még állam szolgálatát a legnagyobb dolognak nevezték, mi már tudtuk, hogy erosebb annál a halálfélelemnél. Nem lett azért belolünk se zendülo, se szökevény, se gyáva fickó – ezek a kifejezések mind olyan könnyen álltak náluk! –, éppen úgy szerettük a hazánkat, mint ok, és minden támadás alkalmával bátran mentünk elore; de most már tudtunk különbséget tenni, egyszerre megtanultunk látni. És láttuk, hogy az o világukból nem maradt meg semmi. Egyszerre irtózatosan egyedül maradtunk – egyedül kellett boldogulnunk."
Author: Erich Maria Remarque
11. "Rettento színben van, sárga és fakó, arcán már ott vannak azok az idegen vonások, amiket oly pontosan ismerünk, mert már százszor láttuk. Tulajdonképpen nem is vonások, inkább jegyek. Bore alatt már semmi élet nem lüktet; kiszorították a felszínre, belülrol a halál küszködik egyre kijjebb, a szemén uralkodik is már. Itt fekszik Kemmerich bajtársunk, aki még nemrégen lóhúst sütött, és a gránittölcsérben kuksolt velünk együtt – még o az, és már mégsem o, a képe elmosódott, határozatlanná vált, mint egy fényképlemez, amelyre két fölvételt csináltak. Még a hangja csengése is a hamura emlékeztet."
Author: Erich Maria Remarque
12. "Stigmata of LoveA light which lives on what the flames devour,a grey landscape surrounding me with scorch,a crucifixion by a single wound,a sky and earth that darken by each hour,a sob of blood whose red ribbon adornsa lyre without a pulse, and oils the torch,a tide which stuns and strands me on the reef,a scorpion scrambling, stinging in my chest--this is the wreath of love, this bed of thornsis where I dream of you stealing my rest,haunting these sunken ribs cargoed with grief.I sought the peak of prudence, but I foundthe hemlock-brimming valley of your heart,and my own thirst for bitter truth and art."
Author: Federico García Lorca
13. "To the Parcae" A single summer grant me, great powers, anda single autumn for fully ripened songthat, sated with the sweetness of myplaying, my heart may more willingly die.The soul that, living, did not attain its divineright cannot repose in the nether world.But once what I am bent on, what isholy, my poetry, is accomplished:Be welcome then, stillness of the shadows' world!I shall be satisfied though my lyre will notaccompany me down there. Once Ilived like the gods, and more is not needed."
Author: Friedrich Hölderlin
14. "We say that the most dangerouscriminal now is the entirely lawless modern philosopher. Comparedto him, burglars and bigamists are essentially moral men; my heartgoes out to them. They accept the essential ideal of man; theymerely seek it wrongly. Thieves respect property. They merely wishthe property to become their property that they may more perfectlyrespect it. But philosophers dislike property as property; theywish to destroy the very idea of personal possession. Bigamistsrespect marriage, or they would not go through the highlyceremonial and even ritualistic formality of bigamy. Butphilosophers despise marriage as marriage. Murderers respect humanlife; they merely wish to attain a greater fulness of human life inthemselves by the sacrifice of what seems to them to be lesserlives. But philosophers hate life itself, their own as much asother people's."
Author: G.K. Chesterton
15. "All things are in flux; the flux is subject to a unifying measure or rational principle. This principle (logos, the hidden harmony behind all change) bound opposites together in a unified tension, which is like that of a lyre, where a stable harmonious sound emerges from the tension of the opposing forces that arise from the bow bound together by the string."
Author: Heraclitus
16. "When I have neither pleasure nor pain and have been breathing for a while the lukewarm insipid air of these so called good and tolerable days, I feel so bad in my childish soul that I smash my moldering lyre of thanksgiving in the face of the slumbering god of contentment and would rather feel the very devil burn in me than this warmth of a well-heated room. A wild longing for strong emotions and sensations seethes in me, a rage against this toneless, flat, normal and sterile life. I have a mad impulse to smash something, a warehouse, perhaps, or a cathedral, or myself, to commit outrages, to pull off the wigs of a few revered idols..."
Author: Hermann Hesse
17. "They have seen Death and ultimate defeat,and yet they would not in despair retreat,but oft to victory have tuned the lyreand kindled hearts with legendary fire,illuminating Now and dark Hath-beenwith light of suns as yet by no man seen."
Author: J.R.R. Tolkien
18. "All the world is made of music. We are all strings on a lyre. We resonate. We sing together."
Author: Joe Hill
19. "Poem Written in a Copy of BeowulfAt various times, I have asked myself what reasonsmoved me to study, while my night came down,without particular hope of satisfaction,the language of the blunt-tongued Anglo-Saxons.Used up by the years, my memoryloses its grip on words that I have vainlyrepeated and repeated. My life in the same wayweaves and unweaves its weary history.Then I tell myself: it must be that the soulhas some secret, sufficient way of knowingthat it is immortal, that its vast, encompassingcircle can take in all, can accomplish all.Beyond my anxiety, beyond this writing,the universe waits, inexhaustible, inviting."
Author: Jorge Luis Borges
20. "But you who walk facing the sun, what images drawn on the earth can hold you? You who travel with the wind, what weathervane shall direct your course? What man's law shall bind you if you break your yoke but upon no man's prison door? What laws shall you fear if you dance but stumble against no man's iron chains? And who is he that shall bring you to judgment if you tear off your garment yet leave it in no man's path? People of Orphalese, you can muffle the drum, and you can loosen the strings of the lyre, but who shall command the skylark not to sing?"
Author: Kahlil Gibran
21. "One thing was absolutely certain—it was a given for Kazuo. Although he might not have particularlyrealized it, or more appropriately, perhaps because he was incapable of coming to such a realization, this was what it came down to: he, Kazuo Kiriyama, felt no emotion, no guilt, no sorrow, no pity, towards the four corpses, including Mitsuru's—and that ever since the day he was dropped into this world theway he was, he had never once felt a single emotion."
Author: Koushun Takami
22. "But when I looked for good, evil came; and when I waited for light, darkness came. My lyre is turned to mourning, and my pipe to the voice of those who weep. (Job)"
Author: Laura Wiess
23. "Oftentimeswhen I read a book,I want to savoreach word,each phrase,each page,loving the proseso much,I don't want itto end.Other timesthe story pulls me in,and I can hardlyread fast enough,the details flying by,some of them lostbecause all that mattersis making surethe characteris all rightwhen it's over."
Author: Lisa Schroeder
24. "VespersIn your extended absence, you permit meuse of earth, anticipatingsome return on investment. I must reportfailure in my assignment, principallyregarding the tomato plants.I think I should not be encouraged to growtomatoes. Or, if I am, you should withholdthe heavy rains, the cold nights that comeso often here, while other regions gettwelve weeks of summer. All thisbelongs to you: on the other hand,I planted the seeds, I watched the first shootslike wings tearing the soil, and it was my heartbroken by the blight, the black spot so quicklymultiplying in the rows. I doubtyou have a heart, in our understanding ofthat term. You who do not discriminatebetween the dead and the living, who are, in consequence,immune to foreshadowing, you may not knowhow much terror we bear, the spotted leaf,the red leaves of the maple fallingeven in August, in early darkness: I am responsiblefor these vines."
Author: Louise Glück
25. "A monkey is always a monkey," says the proverb, "even if he has birth-tokens of gold." Although you have a book in your hand and read all the time, you do not under­stand a single thing that you read, but you are like the donkey that listens to the lyre and wags his ears.If possessing books made their owner learned, they would indeed be a possession of great price, and only rich men like you would have them, since you could buy them at auction, as it were, outbidding us poor men. In that case, however, who could rival the dealers and booksellers for learning, who possess and sell so many books ? But if you care to look into the matter, you will see that they are not much superior to you in that point; they are barbarous of speech and obtuse in mind like you—just what one would expect people to be who have no conception of what is good and bad. Yet you have only two or three books which they themselves have sold you, while they handle books night and day."
Author: Lucian
26. "Most már többé-kevésbé helyrezökkentem; ha kell, össze tudom szedni magam, s néha négy-öt óra hosszat is egészen úgy viselkedem, mint más; de minden semmiség visszavet elobbi állapotomba: egy emlék, hely vagy szó, egy kis töprengés, s foképp a maga levelei, sot az enyémek is, amikor írom oket, valaki, aki magáról beszél: megannyi szirt, melyen szétzúzódik az önuralmam, és ilyen szirt boven akad."
Author: Madame De Sévigné
27. "Everything in any way beautiful has its beauty of itself, inherent and self-sufficient: praise is no part of it. At any rate, praise does not make anything better or worse. This applies even to the popular conception of beauty, as in material things or works of art. So does the truly beautiful need anything beyond itself? No more than law, no more than truth, no more than kindness or integrity. Which of these things derives its beauty from praise, or withers under criticism? Does an emerald lose its quality if it is not praised? And what of gold, ivory, purple, a lyre, a dagger, a flower, a bush?"
Author: Marcus Aurelius
28. "Eltávozásod, melyre meggyötört lelkem, bármily leleményes is, nem tud elég gyászos jelzot találni, örökre megfosztott attól, hogy szemedbe tekintsek, abba a szempárba, ahonnan annyi szerelem sugárzott felém, mely oly indulatokat gerjesztett szívemben, miktol elöntött az öröm, s melynek mindent pótoltak az életben, és tökéletesen kielégítettek. Jaj, nem látja már szemem az egyetlen fényforrást, melybol ragyogását kapta; nem is használom másra, mint szüntelen könnyhullatásra, mióta megtudtam, hogy úgy döntöttél: visszatérsz hazádba; hisz ez a gondolat oly elbírhatatlan, hogy gyilkosommá válik nemsokára. S lásd, közben mégis azt érzem, hogy voltaképpen még a kínokhoz is ragaszkodom én, mert te, egyedül te vagy okozójuk, s én, mihelyt megláttalak, neked szántam az életemet, hát most még abban is találok egy szikrányi gyönyöruséget, ha feláldozhatom érted."
Author: Mariana Alcoforado
29. "The Journey One day you finally knewwhat you had to do, and began,though the voices around youkept shoutingtheir bad advice --though the whole housebegan to trembleand you felt the old tugat your ankles."Mend my life!"each voice cried.But you didn't stop.You knew what you had to do,though the wind priedwith its stiff fingersat the very foundations,though their melancholywas terrible.It was already lateenough, and a wild night,and the road full of fallenbranches and stones.But little by little,as you left their voices behind,the stars began to burnthrough the sheets of clouds,and there was a new voicewhich you slowlyrecognized as your own,that kept you companyas you strode deeper and deeperinto the world,determined to dothe only thing you could do --determined to savethe only life you could save."
Author: Mary Oliver
30. "That One Man (from The People Who Didn't Say Goodbye)There is always that one manwho you can't avoidthat one face that becomes the onlyrepresentative of Heaven."
Author: Merrit Malloy
31. "Requiescat Tread lightly, she is nearUnder the snow,Speak gently, she can hearThe daisies grow.All her bright golden hairTarnished with rust,She that was young and fairFallen to dust.Lily-like, white as snow,She hardly knewShe was a woman, soSweetly she grew.Coffin-board, heavy stone,Lie on her breast,I vex my heart aloneShe is at rest.Peace, Peace, she cannot hearLyre or sonnet,All my life's buried here,Heap earth upon it."
Author: Oscar Wilde
32. "Who set Rome on fire? The man we must admire. For killing his wife, and taking the life of mother and brother and so many others, while plucking his damnable lyre."
Author: Paul L. Maier
33. "Stella, the only planet of my light,Light of my life, and life of my desire,Chief good, whereto my hope doth only aspire,World of my wealth, and heav'n of my delight:Why dost thou spend the treasure of thy sprite,With voice more fit to wed Amphion's lyre,Seeking to quench in me the noble fireFed by thy worth, and kindled by thy sight?And all in vain, for while thy breath most sweet,With choicest words, thy words with reasons rare,Thy reasons firmly set on Virtue's feet,Labor to kill in me this killing care:Oh, think I then, what paradise of joyIt is, so fair a Virtue to enjoy."
Author: Philip Sidney
34. "Je sentis frissonner sur mes lèvres muettes la douceur et l'effroi de ton premier baiser. Sous tes pas, j'entendis les lyres se briser, en criant vers le ciel l'ennui fier des poètes, parmi des flots de sons languissamment décrus."
Author: Renée Vivien
35. "The soul is but senses catching fire,Marvellous music of the body's lyre, -The angel senses are the silver stringsStirred by the breath of some unknown desire."
Author: Richard Le Gallienne
36. "The coffee shops were doing a brisk business, and street musicians filled the air with the sounds of guitar, lyre, panpipes, and armpit noises. (Percy didn't get that last one. Maybe it was an old Roman musical tradition.)"
Author: Rick Riordan
37. "And from then on I bathed in the PoemOf the Sea, infused with stars and lactescent,Devouring the green azure where, like a pale elatedPiece of flotsam, a pensive drowned figure sometimes sinks;Where, suddenly dyeing the blueness, deliriumAnd slow rhythms under the streaking of daylight,Stronger than alcohol, vaster than our lyres,The bitter redness of love ferments!"
Author: Rimbaud Arthur
38. "Girls, be good to these spirits of music and poetrythat breast your threshold with their scented gifts.Lift the lyre, clear and sweet, they leave with you.As for me, this body is now so arthriticI cannot play, hardly even hold the instrument.Can you believe my white hair was once black?And oh, the soul grows heavy with the body.Complaining knee-joints creak at every move.To think I danced as delicate as a deer!Some gloomy poems came from these thoughts:useless: we are all born to lose life,and what is worse, girls, to lose youth.The legend of the goddess of the dawnI'm sure you know: how rosy Eosmadly in love with gorgeous young Tithonusswept him like booty to her hiding-placebut then forgot he would grow old and greywhile she in despair pursued her immortal way."
Author: Sappho
39. "[You for] the fragrant-blossomed Muses' lovely gifts[be zealous,] girls, [and the] clear melodious lyre:[but my once tender] body old age now[has seized;] my hair's turned [white] instead of dark;my heart's grown heavy, my knees will not support me,that once on a time were fleet for the dance as fawns.This state I oft bemoan; but what's to do?Not to grow old, being human, there's no way.Tithonus once, the tale was, rose-armed Dawn,love-smitten, carried off to the world's end,handsome and young then, yet in time grey ageo'ertook him, husband of immortal wife."
Author: Sappho
40. "Live for the gifts the fragrant-breasted Musessend, for the clear, the singing, lyre, my children.Old age freezes my body, once so lithe,rinses the darkness from my hair, now white.My heart's heavy, my knees no longer keep meup through the dance they used to prance like fawns in.Oh, I grumble about it, but for what?Nothing can stop a person's growing old.They say that Tithonus was swept awayin Dawn's passionate, rose-flushed arms to liveforever, but he lost his looks, his youth,failing husband of an immortal bride."
Author: Sappho
41. "I leant upon a coppice gate When Frost was spectre-gray,And Winter's dregs made desolate The weakening eye of day.The tangled bine-stems scored the sky Like strings of broken lyres,And all mankind that haunted nigh Had sought their household fires.The land's sharp features seemed to be The Century's corpse outleant,His crypt the cloudy canopy, The wind his death-lament.The ancient pulse of germ and birth Was shrunken hard and dry,And every spirit upon earth Seemed fervourless as I."
Author: Thomas Hardy
42. "She is older than the rocks among which she sits; like the vampire, she has been dead many times, and learned the secrets of the grave; and has been a diver in deep seas, and keeps their fallen day about her; and trafficked for strange webs with Eastern merchants, and, as Leda, was the mother of Helen of Troy, and, as Saint Anne, the mother of Mary; and all this has been to her but as the sound of lyres and flutes, and lives only in the delicacy with which it has molded the changing lineaments, and tinged the eyelids and the hands."
Author: Walter Pater
43. "Igazságos? - mormogta Nagymama. - Jó szó. Anthony, a sérült emberekkel teli sérült világban semmi nincs, ami igazságos. Az igazságszolgáltatás igyekszik igazságos lenni, de úton-útfélen csodöt mond. A kegyelemben és a megbocsátásban szintén nincs soha semmi igazságos. A büntetéssel nem lehet helyreállítani az igazságosat. A bunvallás sem teszi igazságossá a dolgokat. Az élet nem arról szól, hogy megkapod a megfelelo teljesítményért járó igazságos jutalmat. A szerzodések, az ügyvédek, a betegség, a hatalom - ezek egyikét sem érdekli, mi az igazságos. Jobb lenne a halott szavakat kivenni a nyelveitekbol, és helyette élo szavakra összpontosítani, mint az irgalom, kedvesség, megbocsátás és kegyelem. Jó lenne, ha nem foglalkoznál annyit a jogaiddal, és azzal, hogy szerinted mi igazságos."
Author: Wm. Paul Young
44. "History clearlyshows that governments that have tried to contain, regulate, or otherwiseusurp capital have failed. It is the same with brainpower; noone has a monopoly on brainpower. Controlling brainpower is likeherding cats. Brainpower creates capital, and capital fuels brainpower.It is a fundamental dynamic principle. Great ideas, solutions, insights,or inventions will develop only where they are nurtured and properlyrewarded."
Author: Ziad K. Abdelnour

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Unless a capacity for thinking be accompanied by a capacity for action, a superior mind exists in torture."
Author: Charles Horton Cooley

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