Notable Quotes
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Love, they say, is a pain
Infinite as the soul,
Ever a longing to be
Love's, to infinity,
Ever a longing in vain
After a vanishing goal.


I know the woman has no soul, I know
The woman has no possibilities
Of soul or mind or heart, but merely is
The masterpiece of flesh: well, be it so.
It is her flesh that I adore; I go
Thirsting afresh to drain her empty kiss.
I know she cannot love: it is not this
My vanquished heart implores in overthrow.
Tyrannously I crave, I crave alone,
Her splendid body, Earth's most eloquent
Music, divinest human harmony;
Her body now a silent instrument,
That 'neath my touch shall wake and make for me
The strains I have but dreamed of, never known.


And I too under the stars,
Alone with the night again,
And the water's monotone;
I and the night alone,
And the world and the ways of men
Farther from me than the stars.

ARTHUR SYMONS, "Veneta Marina"

Night, a more perfect day.

ARTHUR SYMONS, "Alla Dogana"

Life dreams itself, contents to keep
Happy immortality, in sleep.

ARTHUR SYMONS, "Alle Zattere"

Leave words to them whom words, not doings, move.

ARTHUR SYMONS, "Variations Upon Love"

To have loved, to have been made happy thus,
What better fate has life in store for us?

ARTHUR SYMONS, "Variations Upon Love"

The desert of virginity
Aches in the hotness of her mouth.


O, the one happiness, when, out of breath,
Our feet slip, and we stumble upon death!

ARTHUR SYMONS, "The Beggars"

God, like all highest things,
Hides light in shade,
And in the night his visitings
To sleep and dreams are clearliest made.


Life is a dream in the night, a fear among fears,
A naked runner lost in a storm of spears.

ARTHUR SYMONS, "In the Wood of Finvara"

The clamours of spring are the same old delicate noises,
The earth renews its magical youth at a breath.

ARTHUR SYMONS, "The Coming of Spring"

The dead are happy, having no desire.
I rise and fall, and rise and fall again,
Something is in me, famishing for bread,
Baffled and unappeasable as fire.


Love is a flaming heart, and its flames aspire
Till they cloud the soul in the smoke of a windy fire.

ARTHUR SYMONS, "In the Wood of Finvara"

Knowing so much less than nothing, for we are entrapped in smiling and many-coloured appearances.

ARTHUR SYMONS, The Symbolist Movement in Literature

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, Cities and Sea-Coasts and Islands


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