Quotes like I trust Winsor and Newton...

I trust Winsor and Newton and I paint directly upon it.

quote by Edward Hopper
Added by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes

Trust Trust

Trust trust many have found
Trust trust no where around
Trust trust is what many say
Trust trust here i lay
Trust trust in my ear
Trust trust i cant find you my dear

Trust trust is hard to find
Trust trust are you apart of mankind
Trust trust im calling to you
Trust trust please give me a clue
Trust trust i need my love
Trust trust she came from up above

Trust trust what do i do
Trust trust do i believe my boo
Trust trust am i right
Trust trust please show me the light
Trust trust your driving me crazy
Trust trust your just to hazy

Trust trust i will find you
Trust trust i will never find anew
Trust trust help me out
Trust trust cause with this love i dont want to wipeout
Trust trust sarah's is my heart
Trust trust she's a beauty of art

poem by Cody Fortner
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If It's Love!

It's important that unshown love,
Comes directly shown from you.
To say it...
Doesn't make,
That-love-be-true!

It's important that unshown love,
Is a thing one wants to do...
Just to prove what is said,
Is absolutely true.

A hug,
And maybe a kiss.
A touch,
That has been missed.
A show of thoughtfulness...
Can go a very long distance.

A call,
Every once in a while...
Will go further than a mile.
If love is there to be shared...
Show someone they are cared for!
And doubts will come no more.

It's important that unshown love,
Comes directly shown from you.
To say it...
Doesn't make,
That-love-be-true!

It's important it's directly shown,
If it's love.
Yes!

It's important it's directly shown.
It's important it's directly shown.
It's important it's directly shown,
If it's love!

It shoos a boo-hooin'...
Known.

It's important it's directly shown.
It's important it's directly shown.
It's important it's directly shown,

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Paint Me Down

Paint me down
Paint me down
Paint me down
Im walking into studio
Consider strange appeal
Paint me in the home
Im brushing up on sketchbook
Designs for love unreal
Paint me in the home
Oil and skin youll need to buy it
Consider what I mean
She sinks beneath thr moving pictures
Prepare the brush for me
Im craving with this need
Paint me down
Paint me down
Paint me down
Im soaking up the surface
Conceaiving new idea
Paint me in the home
Shes oiling up her subject
But all still life is here
Paint me in the home
All the boys with framed dimension
A cover up on lust
Hell take his pain and paint it over
Prepare the brush for me
Im craving with this need
Paint me down
Paint me down
Paint me down

song performed by Spandau Ballet
Added by Lucian Velea
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Trust is found

Trust in man was lost today
Trust in man that is never quite regained
Trust was lost when you started to betray
Trust was lost when you didn't care enough to say
Trust was lost when you used me as your social play
Trust was lost when you hurt me in front of family and those that used me as prey
Trust was lost when you denied me of my greatest day
Trust was lost when you ignored my loves and hates
Trust was lost when you borrowed and never repaid
Trust was lost when I gave and you treated me as a slave
Trust was lost when I cared and all you wanted was pay
Trust was lost when I loved and you treated me as the fool
Trust was lost when I had a great passion and you treated it as a ration
Trust was lost when I looked in your eyes and saw the truth, but you continued to lie
Trust was lost when I asked you to help and you never even tried
Trust was found and everything turned around
When I lowered my head and looked up to the Masters stead
Trust was found and with it came the sound of the beginning to an eternal round
For on that day trust was found
Trust becomes sound, only when man looks around and realizes that
The only trust to be found is in him-self and the one that gave us ground
TRUST WAS FOUND!

poem by Jeff Rushton
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Sign-Board

I will paint you a sign, rumseller,
And hang it above your door;
A truer and better signboard
Than ever you had before.
I will paint with the skill of a master,
And many shall pause to see
This wonderful piece of painting,
So like the reality.

I will paint yourself, rumseller,
As you wait for that fair young boy,
Just in the morning of manhood,
A mother's pride and joy.
He has no thought of stopping,
But you greet him with a smile,
And you seem so blithe and friendly,
That he pauses to chat awhile.

I will paint you again, rumseller,
I will paint you as you stand,
With a foaming glass of liquor
Extended in your hand.
He wavers, but you urge him-
Drink, pledge me just this one!
And he takes the glass and drains it,
And the hellish work is done.

And next I will paint a drunkard-
Only a year has flown,
But into that loathsome creature
The fair young boy has grown.
The work was sure and rapid.
I will paint him as he lies
In a torpid, drunken slumber,
Under the wintry skies.

I will paint the form of the mother
As she kneels at her darling's side,
Her beautiful boy that was dearer
Than all the world beside.
I will paint the shape of a coffin,
Labeled with one word-'lost,'
I will paint all this, rumseller,
And will paint it free of cost.

[...] Read more

poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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The Signboard

I will paint yourself, rumseller,
As you wait for that fair young boy,
Just in the morning of manhood,
A mother’s pride and joy.
He has no thought of stopping,
But you greet him with a smile
And you seem so blithe and friendly,
That he pauses a chat awhile.

I will paint you again, rumseller,
I will paint you as you stand,
With a foaming glass of liquor
Extended in your hand.
He wavers, but you urge him –
Drink, pledge me just this one!
And he takes the glass and drains it,
And the hellish work is done.

And next I will paint a drunkard –
Only a year has flown,
But into that loathesome creature
The fair young boy has grown.
The work was sure and rapid.
I will paint him as he lies
In a torpid, drunken slumber,
Under the wintry skies.

I will paint the form of the mother
As she kneels at her darling’s side,
Her beautiful boy that was dearer
Than all the world beside.
I will paint the shape of a coffin
Labelled with one word – ‘Lost’
I will paint all this, rumseller,
And will paint it free of cost.

The sin and the shame and the sorrow,
The crime and the want and the woe
That are born there in your workshop,
No hand can paint, you know
But I’ll paint you a sign, rumseller,

[...] Read more

poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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Trust Me

Trust me; and I’ll sacrifice each iota of my blood; to
witness you enchantingly smile,

Trust me; and I’ll bring the resplendent festoon of
stars down on earth; to enlighten each cranny of your
disastrously impoverished life,

Trust me; and I’ll blend all the lecherously heinous
with raw bits of threadbare soil; alleviate your
turbulently estranged life of its bizarre sadness,

Trust me; and I’ll stand like an invincibly towering
fortress beside your side; would behead my scalp but
ensure that not even the most minuscule of enemy;
transgressed against your blissful snores,

Trust me; and I’ll help you pass all your horrendously
cumbersome examinations; propelling you irrefutably to
forever emerge a euphoric winner in life,

Trust me; and I’ll inundate your dolorously drab life
with rhapsodically everlasting fragrance; bring the
most captivating of paradise on your divinely toes,

Trust me; and I’ll wholeheartedly donate all my riches
to your desolate soul; indefatigably carry you upon my
shoulders; till you achieved your ultimate mission in
life,

Trust me; and I’ll be your best friend for infinite
more births of yours yet to unveil; would massacre
even the most infinitesimal trace of sadness; before
it dared to linger near your persona,

Trust me; and I’ll ignite untamed cloudbursts of
desire in your pathetically dreary existence; enrich
each of your dreadfully frightening nightmares; with
optimistic rays of light,

Trust me; and I’ll pacify each of your demands with
every ingredient compassionately inhabiting my scarlet
blood; weeping a countless deaths but never letting
you cry,

Trust me; and I’ll sequester you from the most
mightiest storm and rain; incessantly walking on a
blanket of acrimonious thorns; while you danced in
realms of misty sky,

Trust me; and I’ll flood your every morning with the

[...] Read more

poem by Nikhil Parekh
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Trust Yourself

Trust yourself,
Trust yourself to do the things that only you know best.
Trust yourself,
Trust yourself to do whats right and not be second-guessed.
Dont trust me to show you beauty
When beauty may only turn to rust.
If you need somebody you can trust, trust yourself.
Trust yourself,
Trust yourself to know the way that will prove true in the end.
Trust yourself,
Trust yourself to find the path where there is no if and when.
Dont trust me to show you the truth
When the truth may only be ashes and dust.
If you want somebody you can trust, trust yourself.
Well, youre on your own, you always were.
In a land of wolves and thieves.
Dont put your hope in ungodly man
Or be a slave to what somebody else believes.
Trust yourself
And you wont be disappointed when vain people let you down.
Trust yourself
And look not for answers where no answers can be found.
Dont trust me to show you love
When my love may only be lust.
If you want somebody you can trust, trust yourself.

song performed by Bob Dylan
Added by Lucian Velea
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Fra Lippo Lippi

I am poor brother Lippo, by your leave!
You need not clap your torches to my face.
Zooks, what's to blame? you think you see a monk!
What, 'tis past midnight, and you go the rounds,
And here you catch me at an alley's end
Where sportive ladies leave their doors ajar?
The Carmine's my cloister: hunt it up,
Do—harry out, if you must show your zeal,
Whatever rat, there, haps on his wrong hole,
And nip each softling of a wee white mouse,
Weke, weke, that's crept to keep him company!
Aha, you know your betters! Then, you'll take
Your hand away that's fiddling on my throat,
And please to know me likewise. Who am I?
Why, one, sir, who is lodging with a friend
Three streets off—he's a certain...how d'ye call?
Master—a...Cosimo of the Medici,
I' the house that caps the corner. Boh! you were best!
Remember and tell me, the day you're hanged,
How you affected such a gullet's gripe!
But you, sir, it concerns you that your knaves
Pick up a manner nor discredit you:
Zooks, are we pilchards, that they sweep the streets
And count fair prize what comes into this net?
He's Judas to a tittle, that man is!
Just such a face! Why, sir, you make amends.
Lord, I'm not angry! Bid your hangdogs go
Drink out this quarter-florin to the health
Of the munificent House that harbors me
(And many more beside, lads! more beside!)
And all's come square again. I'd like his face—
His, elbowing on his comrade in the door
With the pike and lantern—for the slave that holds
John Baptist's head a-dangle by the hair
With one hand ("Look you, now," as who should say)
And his weapon in the other, yet unwiped!
It's not your chance to have a bit of chalk,
A wood-coal or the like? or you should see!
Yes, I'm the painter, since you style me so.
What, brother Lippo's doings, up and down,
You know them and they take you? like enough!
I saw the proper twinkle in your eye—
'Tell you, I liked your looks at very first.
Let's sit and set things straight now, hip to haunch.
Here's spring come, and the nights one makes up bands
To roam the town and sing out carnival,
And I've been three weeks shut within my mew,
A-painting for the great man, saints and saints
And saints again. I could not paint all night—
Ouf! I leaned out of window for fresh air.

[...] Read more

poem by Robert Browning from Men and Women (1855)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Last Instructions to a Painter

After two sittings, now our Lady State
To end her picture does the third time wait.
But ere thou fall'st to work, first, Painter, see
If't ben't too slight grown or too hard for thee.
Canst thou paint without colors? Then 'tis right:
For so we too without a fleet can fight.
Or canst thou daub a signpost, and that ill?
'Twill suit our great debauch and little skill.
Or hast thou marked how antic masters limn
The aly-roof with snuff of candle dim,
Sketching in shady smoke prodigious tools?
'Twill serve this race of drunkards, pimps and fools.
But if to match our crimes thy skill presumes,
As th' Indians, draw our luxury in plumes.
Or if to score out our compendious fame,
With Hooke, then, through the microscope take aim,
Where, like the new Comptroller, all men laugh
To see a tall louse brandish the white staff.
Else shalt thou oft thy guiltless pencil curse,
Stamp on thy palette, not perhaps the worse.
The painter so, long having vexed his cloth--
Of his hound's mouth to feign the raging froth--
His desperate pencil at the work did dart:
His anger reached that rage which passed his art;
Chance finished that which art could but begin,
And he sat smiling how his dog did grin.
So mayst thou pérfect by a lucky blow
What all thy softest touches cannot do.

Paint then St Albans full of soup and gold,
The new court's pattern, stallion of the old.
Him neither wit nor courage did exalt,
But Fortune chose him for her pleasure salt.
Paint him with drayman's shoulders, butcher's mien,
Membered like mules, with elephantine chine.
Well he the title of St Albans bore,
For Bacon never studied nature more.
But age, allayed now that youthful heat,
Fits him in France to play at cards and treat.
Draw no commission lest the court should lie,
That, disavowing treaty, asks supply.
He needs no seal but to St James's lease,
Whose breeches wear the instrument of peace;
Who, if the French dispute his power, from thence
Can straight produce them a plenipotence..
Nor fears he the Most Christian should trepan
Two saints at once, St Germain, St Alban,
But thought the Golden Age was now restored,
When men and women took each other's word.

[...] Read more

poem by Andrew Marvell
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Don't You Trust Me?

I aint got time for this man im out
We should stop for a while
You will find me standing by
(Dont you trust me)
Over here at the side of your life
(Not that I dont trust you)
You spend all of your hours just rushing around
Do you have a little time to have a little time for me
As soon as I leave the house u wanna page me
See u got me trapped im going crazy this is slavery
You act like its outrageous give me space it will get betta
And maybe we wont argue and be through with all these sorry letters
As soon as I come home its like I get third degree
Where u been and who u with I get no room to breathe
It makes me wanna leave
Im sick of these tricks up your sleeve
Your suspicious I deceive
Give me grief without belief
But to me if u really trust me its then it's pitiful question me about ma were about
>Thats so trival let me live ma life and u can live yours
Just be there to help me and support is what ya hear for.
Not to give me stress
And add ta presser
home is where i go the rest i got to pass the test
im sorry if I left you all alone
But I couldnt make it home so we argue on the phone.
(Dont you trust me)
You should stop for a while
You will find me standing by
(Dont you trust me)
Over here at the side of your life
(Not that I dont trust you)
You spend all your hours just rushing around
Do have a little time to have a little time for me
(Not that I dont trust you)
Calling up ma house then hanging up u think that makes sense
Tell me what it takes to say for us to be friends
Its time for us to take our separate paths
We had a lotta laughs but the good keeps coming pass
Lets make it a even break dont make it scandalous trying be mature
im pretty sure we can handle this
Your saying im to busy I ignore you
I guess u didnt hear me when I said that I cared for u
But now I see that the arguments are nightly
I wanna hold u tightly but instead u wanna fight me
So y would i stress and aggravate me
Instead I rather break, hope that you dont hate me
You tell me that you love me but u lying
Fighting back the urge to start crying
I wipe away your tears come and hug me

[...] Read more

song performed by 2 Pac
Added by Lucian Velea
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God's Character

God has got many paradoxical characteristics
For example
He is the Giver of Life
And the Giver of Death
He is the Giver of Honor and Prestige
And the Giver of Insult and Humiliation
He is the Most Merciful
And the Most Cruel

God felt the pain and sorrow
When He understood it’s impossible
To have His spouse of imagination in reality
It hurts God’s feelings
If anyone says there is more than one God
Because He has no spouse, parents and children
And it’s not at all good news for God
Although He has got many consolations.

God is not all good
God hides even His own sins to some extent
But there’s no one to bring God to justice
That’s why we should be scared of God

Although God's body is able to eat and drink
He doesn’t eat and drink
If the whole universe is turned into His food
It won't satisfy His hunger
God’s body doesn’t sleep and drowse
Although He is able to that
Because He's got so many things to do

Although God's body is able to enjoy sex
But He doesn't do that
Because He is the only one of His species

God’s body always speaks the truth
God’s body doesn’t laugh loudly, He smiles
God's body blesses when He feels happy
God’s body curses when He becomes angry
God’s body doesn’t injure or kill anyone directly
God’s body usually uses His throne
To go to distant places
God’s body doesn’t expand His visible glow
Most of the times

God is unable to change His own character
And thereby change His own fate
God has got all the materials
To create His own spouse
But He lacks the necessary know-how

[...] Read more

poem by Asif Andalib
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An Array And Plethora

An array and plethora,
Of love...
Is too diverse for me.
I like it,
Directly!

An array and plethora,
Of love...
Is too diverse for me.
I need it,
More directly!

I want to know that which is given,
Has no loopholes I could miss.

I want to know my feelings felt,
Aren't pushed aside to dust on shelves.

An array and plethora,
Of love...
Is too diverse for me.
I like it,
Directly!

When I'm wrapped in a hug,
And my lips are kissed...
I like it,
Directly!

When I see eyes on me melt with mist.
I like this...
Directly!

I like to know that which is given,
Has no loopholes I could miss.
Oh,
I like it more directly.

I like to know that which is given,
Has no loopholes I could miss.
And...
I like it more directly.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Added by Poetry Lover
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Spots On A Paint Rag

Spots on a paint rag trying to figure out
if they're part of a larger picture.
Daubs and smudges and smears of black and red.
Topographies of dry thick ridges of blue acrylic,
peach-coloured mesas bruised
by the encroaching violets of dusk in a painted desert.
Are these the wanna-be windows of life
who failed to achieve a whole and harmonious view
of what they're doing here swiping off knives
thick with the gore of cadmium red,
cleaning off brushes that get to go out
on the field to caress and poke
stars and trees into being? Waterboys, not players.

I say the word, life, and I feel tonight like
the heaviness of a bell that's supplanted my heart.
The right root, but the wrong blossom.
Even though I'd melt that bell
back down into raucous cannon
to defend the concept to my very last breath.
But tonight I'm tunnelling under the foundations
of the cornerstones of life to bring
the walls down on top of my head,
like an avalanche of prophetic skulls
to just get a peek inside the grand paradigm,
the white light of the gessoed underpainting.
The secret garden with low-hanging fruit
on easy street with the sacred whores of Babylon.

An existential sadness, deep as a death-wound,
as if I'd just been stabbed in the heart
by the hands of a clock that mistook me for an intruder,
undermines me from below, a pyramid built on quicksand.
As if all those who had drowned in life
like fish up over their gills in water
were swimming in the watershed of every tear
that almost makes it up over the top of the dam
I try to throw up like a manly front to what
I know I won't be able to hold back for long.

And there go the villages in the flooded valley
I tried to live among like a neighbourly mountain
come to Muhammad on the way up and down.
It's cold and lonely and the air is thin
at the peaks of experience, with only
a star and a cloud for company.
The hard diamond in the rough I used to be
has grown mushy over the years. Tears.
Imagine that. Warm, salt seas with undulant tides
of emotion coursing in and out,

[...] Read more

poem by Patrick White
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Trust You

I dont know what Im supposed to have said
But I can imagine whats in your head
Its not that you dont trust all that I do
Its just that you would have if it were you
Trust me, tell me
Truthfully, you can
Trust me, tell me
Faithfuly, you can
Trust me, trust you
Im starting to question why I am here
Your constant suspicions dont make it clear
Just leave it, believe me Ill show the signs
Youll find her, the cheat that you have in mind
I have nothing to hide
And what could I deny
Trust me, tell me
Truthfully, you can
Trust me, tell me
Faithfuly, you can
Trust me, trust you
I have nothing to hide
And what could I deny
Trust me, tell me
Truthfully, you can
Trust me, tell me
Faithfuly, you can
Trust me, trust you
Trust me, tell me
Truthfully, you can
Trust me, tell me
Faithfuly, you can
Trust me, trust you

song performed by Olive
Added by Lucian Velea
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0978..... Belief Vs Trust

Belief is Doubtful, Trust is Certain
Belief is from Mind, Trust is from Heart
Belief is Lip Service; Trust is Heart Felt
Believe many; Trust only a Few
Believing is Easy, Trusting is Hard
Belief scores 50%, Trust scores 100%
Belief is Ordinary; Trust is Extra-ordinary
Belief is Start point; Trust is End Point
Belief is Limited; Trust is infinite
Belief is Shaking Hands, Trust is Embracing
Belief keeps Control; Trust gives up control
Belief is jumping opportunities; Trust is staying
Belief is not Time Tested; Trust passes Tough Times
Belief is Partial; Trust is Complete
Believe in Thoughts; Trust your Intuition
Belief in God is Attempting; Trust in God is Surrender
Belief is Important; Trust is Essential
Belief is Plastic Rose; Trust is Real Rose

(23-June-2010, Chennai)

poem by Gan Chennai
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I Trust In Jesus

Before this body turns to dust
Before this world I leave
Upon The Lord I’ve placed my trust
Upon The Rock I’ll cleave

I’ve placed my trust in Jesus Christ
God’s Son of flesh and bone
The innocent Lamb sacrificed
I trust His word alone

I trust He chose for man to die
Then rose again to reign
That as God’s Seed He’d multiply
His flock when born-again

I trust His blood can cleanse the soul
I trust His blood can save
His very name can make us whole
And save us from the grave

I trust in Jesus’ loving care
I trust He bore my shame
I trust the love He came to share
Remains today the same

I trust the pardon Jesus bought
Can save this wretch from hell
I trust Salvation’s true report
My Saviour had to tell

Although the devil’s out to harm
Though Satan’s he’s out to kill
I trust my Lord’s almighty arm
I trust His righteous will

I trust my life to Christ The Lord
I trust in Heaven’s Door
I trust in God’s Almighty Sword
I’ll trust Him evermore…

poem by Michael P. Johnson
Added by Poetry Lover
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I Trust In Jesus

Before this body turns to dust
Before this world I leave
Upon The Lord I've placed my trust
Upon The Rock I'll cleave
I've placed my trust in Jesus Christ
God's Son of flesh and bone
The innocent Lamb sacrificed
I trust His word alone
I trust He chose for man to die
Then rose again to reign
That as God's Seed He'd multiply
His flock when born-again
I trust His blood can cleanse the soul
I trust His blood can save
His very name can make us whole
And save us from the grave
I trust in Jesus' loving care
I trust He bore my shame
I trust the love He came to share
Remains today the same
I trust the pardon Jesus bought
Can save this wretch from hell
I trust Salvation's true report
My Saviour had to tell
Although the devil's out to harm
Though Satan's he's out to kill
I trust my Lord's almighty arm
I trust His righteous will
I trust my life to Christ The Lord
I trust in Heaven's Door
I trust in God's Almighty Sword
I'll trust Him evermore…

poem by Bikramjyoti Kashyop
Added by Poetry Lover
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I trust JESUS.......