Robert Montgomery Quotes

The people you love become ghosts inside of you, and like this you keep them alive.

Home, the spot of earth supremely blest, A dearer, sweeter spot than all the rest.

Are you really listening... or are you just waiting for your turn to talk?

If you are lucky enough to be a success, by all means enjoy the applause and the adulation of the public. But never, never believe it.

As o'er the stormy sea of human Life We sail, until our anchor'd spirits rest In the far haven of Eternity.

The flood will lift the ghosts from the Hollywood lawn cemetery and they will disappear like ether in the now dead air. All the names will be erased from the billboards and the theatres and the piers and the magazines and the monuments. You live by myths of immortality, and your myths are not safe.

I'm not avoiding your question on my relationship to the fashion world or my work being shown in a fashion setting. My work's most often seen in the streets on billboards. I don't know if it being seen in a shop is any much different.

And Thou, vast Ocean! on whole awful face Time's iron feet can print no ruin trace.

My advice to you concerning applause is this: enjoy it but never quite believe it

There's nothing terrible in death; 'Tis but to cast our robes away, And sleep at night, without a breath To break repose till dawn of day.

Obviously my own work comes from a conceptual art tradition, but I love the graffiti artists, and I feel spiritually closer to them than to most contemporary art; they make the city a free space of diverse voices and we shouldn't get all cynical about them just because Banksy made some money. I collaborate sometimes with Krae, who is an old school east London graffiti writer.

Earth, air, and ocean, glorious three.

A moment is a mighty thing Beyond the soul's imagination; For in it, though we trace it not, How much there crowds of varied lot How much of life, life cannot see, Darts onward to eternity!

The solitary monk who shook the world From pagan slumber, when the gospel trump Thunder' d its challenge from his dauntless lips In peals of truth.

Oh! weep not that our beauty wears Beneath the wings of Time; That age o'erclouds the brow with cares That once was raised sublime... But mourn the inward wreck we feel As hoary years depart, And Time's effacing fingers steal Young feelings from the heart!

Beneath our feet a fairy pathway flows, The grass still glitters in the summer breeze, The dusky wood, and distant copse appear, And that lone stream, upon whose chequer’d face We mused, when noon-rays made the pebbles gleam, Is mirror’d to the mind: though all around Be rattling hoofs and roaring wheels, the eye Is wand’ring where the heart delights to dwell.

O for a summer noon, when light and breeze Sport on the grass, like ripples o'er a lake Alive with freshness! when the full round Sun, With the Creator's smile upon his face, Walks like a prince of glory through the path Of Heaven! - Thou vast, and ever-glorious sky, Mantling the earth with thy majestic robe.

Where beats a heart within a human breast, There be Thou present, and Thy power adored! And oh! since all one common race are doom'd To run, and one eternal goal to reach, May Thy prime attribute each bosom warm With tender sympathy and truth; may man To man be link'd to man in fellowship of soul, Till one vast chain of Love embrace the world!

How oft, - be witness, Guardian of our days!... The sky besprinkled o'er with rainbow hues, As if angelic wings had wanton'd there.

The soul aspiring pants its source to mount,As streams meander level with their fount.

Oh! none are so absorb'd, as not to feel Sweet thoughts like music coming o'er the mind: When prayer, the purest incense of a soul, Hath risen to the throne of heaven, the heart Is mellow'd, and the shadows that becloud Our state of darken'd being, glide away.

How sublime Upon a time-blanch’d cliff to muse, and, while The eagle glories in a sea of air, To mingle with the scene around! - Survey The sun-warm heaven.

Are there not hours of an immortal birth,— Bright visitations from a purer sphere, That cannot live in language? Is there not A mood of glory, when the mind attuned To heaven, can out of dreams create her worlds?—

Free healthcare and free and equal education and peace are about the only things I passionately believe in, and I think if you don't believe in those but you go to church on Sunday then that's hypocris.

And now, Though haply mellow'd by correcting time, I thank thee, Heaven! that the bereaving world Hath not diminish'd the subliming hopes Of youth, in manhood's more imposing cares.