A Quote by Philibert Joseph Roux

Everything that is exquisite hides itself. — © Philibert Joseph Roux
Everything that is exquisite hides itself.
A word does not say anything And at the same time it hides everything Just as the wind that hides the water Like the flowers that mud hides. A glance does not say anything And at the same time it says everything Like rain on your face Or an old treasure map A truth does not say anything And at the same time it hides everything Like a bonfire that does not go out Like a stone that is born dust. If one day you need me, I will be nothing And at the same time I will be everything Because in your eyes are my wings And the shore where I drown.
Television is hypnotic, and it hides among the furniture of your living room. It doesn't reveal itself, but it distorts everything.
Culture hides more than it reveals, and strangely enough what it hides, it hides most effectively from its own participants.
Culture hides much more than it reveals, and strangely enough, what it hides, it hides most effectively from its own participants.
Poverty hides itself in thought before it surrenders to purses.
To the resentment that hides inside love, to the loneliness that hides among companions.
Joys too exquisite to last, And yet more exquisite when past.
The poetical impression of any object is that uneasy, exquisite sense of beauty or power that cannot be contained within itself; that is impatient of all limit; that (as flame bends to flame) strives to link itself to some other image of kindred beauty or grandeur; to enshrine itself, as it were, in the highest forms of fancy, and to relieve the aching sense of pleasure by expressing it in the boldest manner.
What I want to show in my work is the idea which hides itself behind so-called reality.
Poetry is the exquisite expression of exquisite expressions.
Poetry is the exquisite expression of exquisite impressions.
The spinning wheel is itself an exquisite piece of machinery. My head daily bows in reverence to its unknown inventor.
Everything that is visible hides something that is invisible.
Everything is integral and interacts with everything else. This means that nothing is itself without everything else. There is a commonality, an integrity, an intimacy of the universe with itself.
Everything that from eternity has happened in heaven and earth, the life of God and all the deeds of time simply are the struggles for Spirit to know Itself, to find Itself, be for Itself, and finally unite itself to Itself; it is alienated and divided, but only so as to be able thus to find itself and return to Itself...As existing in an individual form, this liberation is called 'I'; as developed to its totality, it is free Spirit; as feeling, it is Love; and as enjoyment, it is Blessedness.
I think the avant-garde often hides itself in the highly incomprehensible because they are frustrated that the real world is so boring.
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