Oskar Kokoschka, Sleeping girl, 1907 The hope I dreamed of was a dream,was but a dream; and now I wake,exceeding comfortless, and worn, and old,for a dream’s sake.I hang my harp upon a tree,a weeping willow in a lake;I hang my silent harp there, wrung and snappedfor a dream’s sake.Lie still, lie still, my breaking …
Louis Janmot, Flower of the fields, 1845 I looked for that which is not, nor can be,And hope deferred made my heart sick in truthBut years must pass before a hope of youthIs resigned utterly.I watched and waited with a steadfast will:And though the object seemed to flee awayThat I so longed for, ever day …
Jules Breton, Women going to a procession, 1890 No permanence is ours; we are a wave That flows to fit whatever form it finds: Through day or night, cathedral or the cave We pass forever, craving form that binds. Mold after mold we fill and never rest, We find no home where joy or grief …
Guercino Atlas holding up the celestial globe, 1646 To lift a weight so heavy, would take your courage, Sisyphus!Although one’s heart is in the work, Art is long and Time is short.Far from famous sepulchers toward a lonely cemetery my heart, like muffled drums, goes beating funeral marches.Many a jewel lies buried in darkness and oblivion, far, far away from picks and …
Lorenzo Lotto, Allegory of Chastity, c.1506 The happiest day- the happiest hour My sear’d and blighted heart hath known, The highest hope of pride and power, I feel hath flown. Of power! said I? yes! such I ween; But they have vanish’d long, alas! The visions of my youth have been- But let them pass. …
Patrick Devonas, Historia Mundi, c. 2010 I confess this: I have no hope. The blind talk about an escape. I see. When the errors are consumed the nothing will sit next to us as our last companion. Lo confesso: io non ho nessuna speranza. I ciechi parlano di una via d’uscita. Io ci vedo. Quando …
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