Bernard Berenson
Bernard Berenson
Bernard Berensonwas an American art historian specializing in the Renaissance. His book The Italian Painters of the Renaissance was an international success...
NationalityAmerican
ProfessionHistorian
Date of Birth26 June 1865
CountryUnited States of America
beg busy hat people stand street throw wasted wish
I wish I could stand on a busy street corner, hat in hand, and beg people to throw me all their wasted hours.
art government momentary
Government is the art of the momentary feasible, of the least bad attainable, and not of the rationally most desirable.
art men feels
Not what man knows but what man feels, concerns art. All else is science.
art men together
All of the arts, poetry, music, ritual, the visible arts, the theater, must singly and together create the most comprehensive art of all, a humanized society, and its masterpiece, free man
people way affair
International affairs will be placed on a better footing when it is understood that there is no way of punishing a people for the crimes of its rulers.
art appreciate wonder
I wonder whether art has a higher function than to make me feel, appreciate, and enjoy natural objects for their art value?
passion people enemy
Enemies could become the best companions. Companionship is based on a common interest, and the greater the interest the closer the companionship. What makes enemies of people, if not the eagerness, the passion for the same thing?
hope despair cry
Boast is always a cry of despair, except in the young it is a cry of hope.
summer morning air
It was a morning in early summer. A silver haze shimmered and trembled over the lime trees. The air was laden with their fragrance. The temperature was like a caress. I remember - I need not recall - that I climbed up a tree stump and felt suddenly immersed in Itness. I did not call it by that name. I had no need for words. It and I were one.
repent
One can repent even of having repented.
life time hands
I would willingly stand at street corners, hat in hand, begging passerby to drop their unused minutes into it.
believe mind patient
Psychoanalysts are not occupied with the minds of their patients; they do not believe in the mind but in a cerebral intestine.
spring flower eye
I walk in the garden, I look at the flowers and shrubs and trees and discover in them an exquisiteness of contour, a vitality of edge, or a vigour of spring, as well as an infinite variety of colour that no artefact I have seen in the last sixty years can rival...each day, as I look, I wonder where my eyes were yesterday.
dream childhood fatherhood
From childhood on I have had the dream of life lived as a sacrament... the dream implied taking life ritually as something holy.