George Santayana Quotes
''Language is like money, without which specific relative values may well exist and be felt, but cannot be reduced to a common denominator.''George Santayana (1863-1952), Spanish-born U.S. philosopher, poet. The Life of Reason: The Phases of Human Progress, pt. 4, ch. 5, Scribner (1906).
''When men and women agree, it is only in their conclusions; their reasons are always different.''George Santayana (1863-1952), Spanish-born U.S. philosopher, poet. The Life of Reason: The Phases of Human Progress, pt. 2, ch. 6, Scribner (1906).
''Old age is as forgetful as youth, and more incorrigible; it displays the same inattentiveness to conditions; its memory becomes self-repeating and degenerates into an instinctive reaction, like a bird's chirp.''George Santayana (1863-1952), Spanish-born U.S. philosopher, poet. The Life of Reason: The Phases of Human Progress, pt. 1, ch. 10, Scribner (1906).
''You cannot prove realism to a complete sceptic or idealist; but you can show an honest man that he is not a complete sceptic or idealist, but a realist at heart. So long as he is alive his sincere philosophy must fulfil the assumptions of his life and not destroy him.''George Santayana (1863-1952), U.S. philosopher, essayist. Originally published 1920. "Three Proofs of Realism," Essays in Critical Realism, New York (1968).
''There is no cure for birth and death save to enjoy the interval.''George Santayana (1863-1952), U.S. philosopher, poet. "War Shrines," Soliloquies in England (1922).
''America is a young country with an old mentality.''George Santayana (1863-1952), U.S. philosopher, poet. Winds of Doctrine, ch. 6 (1913).
''Nothing can be meaner than the anxiety to live on, to live on anyhow and in any shape; a spirit with any honor is not willing to live except in its own way, and a spirit with any wisdom is not over-eager to live at all.''George Santayana (1863-1952), U.S. philosopher, poet. repr. In Little Essays, "The Intellect Out of Fashion," ed. Logan Pearsall Smith (1920). Winds of Doctrine (1913).
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The muffled syllables that Nature speaks
Fill us with deeper longing for her word;
She hides a meaning that the spirit seeks,
She makes a sweeter music than is heard.
A hidden light illumines all our seeing,
An unknown love enchants our solitude.
We feel and know that from the depths of being
Exhales an infinite, a perfect good.
Though the heart wear the garment of its sorrow
And be not happy like a naked star,
Yet from the thought of peace some peace we borrow,
Some rapture from the rapture felt afar.
Our heart strings are too coarse ...
The Power Of Art
Not human art, but living gods alone
Can fashion beauties that by changing live,--
Her buds to spring, his fruits to autumn give,
To earth her fountains in her heart of stone;
But these in their begetting are o'erthrown,
Nor may the sentenced minutes find reprieve;
And summer in the blush of joy must grieve
To shed his flaunting crown of petals blown.
We to our works may not impart our breath,