Rembrandt Quotes

“What we have witnessed in our own time is the death of universities as centres of critique. Since Margaret Thatcher, the role of academia has been to service the status quo, not challenge it in the name of justice, tradition, imagination, human welfare, the free play of the mind or alternative visions of the future. We will not change this simply by increasing state funding of the humanities as opposed to slashing it to nothing. We will change it by insisting that a critical reflection on human values and principles should be central to everything that goes on in universities, not just to the study of Rembrandt or Rimbaud.”
― Terry Eagleton

“One day the last portrait of Rembrandt and the last bar of Mozart will have ceased to be — though possibly a colored canvas and a sheet of notes will remain — because the last eye and the last ear accessible to their message will have gone.”
― Oswald Spengler, The Decline of the West, Vol 1: Form and Actuality

“Overmodulation
By Charlotte M Liebel-Fawls

You're a cavity in my oasis,
You're a porthole in my sea,
You're a stretch of the imagination
every time you look at me.

You're an ocean in my wineglass,
You're a Steinway on the beach,
You're a captivating audience,
an exciting Rembrandt,

A Masterpiece.”
― Charlotte M. Liebel

“And although it was in a hospital that she lay and I sat next to her—it is always that eternal poetry of Christmas night with the infant in the stable, as the old Dutch painters conceived it and MIllet and Breton—a light in the darkness, the brightness in the middle of a dark night. And so I hung a large etching after Rembrandt over it, the two women by the cradle, one of them reading from the Bible by candlelight, while the great shadows cast a deep chiaroscuro over the whole room.”
― Vincent van Gogh, The Letters of Vincent Van Gogh

“And I got the like, crazy mental illness, so like, maybe someday they'll be like, 'Yeah, he was like Rembrandt, or, uh, Picasso, only he didn't, he didn't cut his ear off, but he ate his own shit. That's so funny, dude. Oh, that's so funny. I'm glad I'm secure in my own idiocy.”
― Aaron Kyle Andresen

“Quien quiera hacer de Rembrandt un pensador, un rebelde enfrentado a su época, al encontrarse ante estas obras maestras deberá admitir que la verdad más convincente para definirlo es la furia creadora, una necesidad constante e irreprimible de representar con toda libertad y de consumir la vida en esta obsesión liberadora.”
― Isabel Belmonte, Rembrandt

“Since my visit to the Hermitage, I had become more aware of the four figures, two women and two men, who stood around the luminous space where the father welcomed his returning son. Their way of looking leaves you wondering how they think or feel about what they are watching. These bystanders, or observers, allow for all sorts of interpretations. As I reflect on my own journey, I become more and more aware of how long I have played the role of observer. For years I had instructed students on the different aspects of the spiritual life, trying to help them see the importance of living it. But had I, myself, really ever dared to step into the center, kneel down, and let myself be held by a forgiving God?

The simple fact of being able to express an opinion, to set up an argument, to defend a position, and to clarify a vision has given me, and gives me still, a sense of control. And, generally, I feel much safer in experiencing a sense of control over an undefinable situation than in taking the risk of letting that situation control me.

Certainly there were many hours of prayer, many days and months of retreat, and countless conversations with spiritual directors, but I had never fully given up the role of bystander. Even though there has been in me a lifelong desire to be an insider looking out, I nevertheless kept choosing over and over again the position of the outsider looking in. Sometimes this looking-in was a curious looking-in, sometimes a jealous looking-in, sometimes an anxious looking-in, and, once in a while, even a loving looking-in. But giving up the somewhat safe position of the critical observer seemed like a great leap into totally unknown territory. I so much wanted to keep some control over my spiritual journey, to be able to predict at least a part of the outcome, that relinquishing the security of the observer for the vulnerability of the returning son seemed close to impossible. Teaching students, passing on the many explanations given over the centuries to the words and actions of Jesus, and showing them the many spiritual journeys that people have chosen in the past seemed very much like taking the position of one of the four figures surrounding the divine embrace. The two women standing behind the father at different distances the seated man staring into space and looking at no one in particular, and the tall man standing erect and looking critically at the event on the platform in front of him--they all represent different ways of not getting involved. There is indifference, curiosity, daydreaming, and attentive observation; there is staring, gazing, watching, and looking; there is standing in the background, leaning against an arch, sitting with arms crossed, and standing with hands gripping each other. Every one of these inner and outward postures are all too familiar with me. Some are more comfortable than others, but all of them are ways of not getting directly involved," (pp. 12-13).”
― Henri J.M. Nouwen, The Return of the Prodigal Son: A Story of Homecoming

“She's also in love with the 'Polish Rider'."

"Who's he?"

"A picture by Rembrandt.”
― Iris Murdoch, The Green Knight

“Over the bed hung the picture of her beloved, the Polish Rider. He was looking, with his authoritative pensive mouth and his calm wide-apart eyes, past Moy, over her left shoulder and away into some vast distance. He was a knight upon a quest. He was brave, innocent, chaste, good.”
― Iris Murdoch, The Green Knight

“Looking toward the Polish Rider she met his calm tender gentle thoughtful gaze. She thought, what he sees is the face of death. He sees the silence of the valley, its emptiness, its innocence — and beyond it the hideous field of war on which he will die. And his poor horse will die too. He is courage, he is love, he loves what is good, and will die for it, his body will be trampled by horses' hooves, and no one will know his grave. She thought, he is so beautiful, he has the beauty of goodness.”
― Iris Murdoch, The Green Knight

“She dreamt she saw the Polish Rider passing slowly by and he was weeping and she called out to him, but he turned his head away. She dreamt that she was drowning in the pool of tears.”
― Iris Murdoch, The Green Knight

“Tyl Ulenspiegel" is a hearty Flemish grabbag—dirt and folk and anarchism and Robin Hood-ness, Bosch and I suppose Rembrandt and a Flemish philosophical novel, and the final denouement even offers the concept of the gifted man who from the solitude of intelligence slips gratefully into ordinary human happiness, the progress from the "hero" to "a man.”
― Edwin Denby, Dancers, Buildings and People in the Streets

“In a conservative courtly culture an artist of his (Rembrandt's) kind would perhaps never made a name for himself at all, but, once recognized, he would probably have been able to hold his own better than in liberal middle-class Holland, where he was allowed to develop in freedom, but which broke him when he refused to submit any longer. The spiritual existence of the artist is always in danger; neither an authoritarian nor a liberal order of society is entirely free from peril for him; the one gives him less freedom, the other less security. There are artists who feel safe only when they are free, but there are also such as can breathe freely only when they are secure. The seventeenth century was, at any rate, one of the period furthest removed from the ideal of synthesis of freedom and security.”
― Arnold Hauser, The Social History of Art: Volume 2: Renaissance, Mannerism, Baroque

“She had eyes that Rembrandt would have painted.”
― John Sandford, Silent Prey

“Bowling has the problem of wildly differing methods so that placing Wasim Akram against Bishan Bedi is rather like hanging a Rembrandt next to a Picasso and trying to produce a valid comparison.”
― Patrick Ferriday, Masterly Batting: 100 Great Test Innings

“Hij was een mens, en hij was vlees en botten en geest en ziel. Zij had van hem gehouden. De Ritselaer had hem gekocht, dokter Tulp had hem gevorderd voor de wetenschap en ik had hem willen hebben voor de kunst. Allemaal wilden we zijn vlees. Allemaal wilden we iets met het lichaam van deze man. Maar hij behoorde toe aan geen van ons. Hij was alleen maar Aris, de dief.”
― Nina Siegal, The Anatomy Lesson

“You can be as good as Rembrandt, but if no one discovers you, you will only be a genius in theory.”
― Eric Weiner, The Geography of Genius: A Search for the World's Most Creative Places from Ancient Athens to Silicon Valley

“Wat is een Nederlander? Wie zich als Nederlander identificeert, onderscheidt zich in taal, kleding of eetgewoonten van de Belgen, de Duitsers, de Engelsen enzovoort. De verschillen met andere naties bakenen het 'wezen' van de Nederlander af. Nationaliteit wordt gedefinieerd door een 'buitengrens'.
Maar Nederland kent ook een 'binnengrens', want welke Nederlander is de ware Nederlander? Erasmus? Rembrandt? Drees? Beatrix? Cruijff? De vacature is door de eeuwen heen door steeds andere personen en groepen vervuld. Zijn het de arbeiders die het land hebben opgebouwd? De middenstanders als motor van de economie? Is het de dominee-koopman? De ware Nederlander verandert voortdurend van gezicht.”
― Matthijs van Boxsel

“Vincent Peranio (Production Designer): I like the lighting. In so many vacant houses where we were filming, we're filming in a natural light or making it look like natural light because it didn't have electricity. Actually, some of the lighting to me was almost like a painting from the past, like from the seventeenth century, a Rembrandt look about it, the darkness of the house and the sunlight searing through the boarded-up windows. I think the show was bleak and beautiful in the way that looking at ruins in a ruined civilisation are.”
― Jonathan Abrams, All the Pieces Matter: The Inside Story of The Wire

“As Father, the authority he claims for himself is the authority of compassion. That authority comes from letting the sins of his children pierce his heart. There is no lust, greed, anger, resentment, jealousy, or vengeance in his lost children that has not cause immense grief to his heart. The grief is so deep because the heart is so pure. From the deep inner place where love embraces all human grief, the Father reaches out to his children. The touch of his hands, radiating inner light, seeks only to heal.

Here is the God I want to believe in: a Father who, from the beginning of creation, has stretched out his arms in merciful blessing, never forcing himself on anyone, but always waiting; never letting his arms drop down in despair, but always hoping that his children will return so that he can speak words of love to them and let his tired arms rest on their shoulders. His only desire is to bless.

In Latin, to bless is benedicere, which means literally: saying good things. The Father wants to say, more with his touch than with his voice, good things of his children. He has no desire to punish them. They have always been punished excessively by their own inner or outer waywardness. The Father wants simply to let them know that the love they have searched for in such distorted ways has been, is, and always will be there for them. The Father wants to say, more with his hands than with his mouth: 'You are my Beloved, on you my favor rests.' He is the shepherd, 'feeding his flock, gathering lambs in his arms, holding them against his breast.' The true center of Rembrandt's painting is the hands of the father.”
― Henri J.M. Nouwen, The Return of the Prodigal Son: A Story of Homecoming

“He will go on painting until he gets it all right. Until there are layers and layers of pigment that will never be diminished. Not by his death, not by his time, not by any time. Cologne earth, Kassel earth, lead white, umber, red lake, vermilion, yellow ocher, red ocher, bone black.”
― Nina Siegal, The Anatomy Lesson

“And I got the like, crazy mental illness, so like, maybe someday they'll be like, 'Yeah, he was like Rembrandt, or, uh, Picasso, only he didn't, he didn't cut his ear off, but he ate his own shit'. That's so funny, dude. Oh, that's so funny. I'm glad I'm secure in my own idiocy.”
― Aaron Kyle Andresen

“The world’s love is and always will be conditional. The world says: “Yes, I love you if you are good-looking, intelligent, and wealthy. I am the prodigal son every time I search for unconditional love where it cannot be found. Whenever I prove to myself and to my world that I do not need God’s love, that I can make a life on my own, that I want to be fully independent. The great event on Rembrandt’s painting is the end of the great rebellion. I am loved so much that I am left free to leave home.”
― Henri J.M. Nouwen, The Return of the Prodigal Son: A Story of Homecoming

“Rembrandt portrays the father as the man who has transcended the ways of his children. His own loneliness and anger may have been there, but they have been transformed by suffering and tears. I see the immense beauty of the father’s emptiness and compassion.”
― Henri J.M. Nouwen, The Return of the Prodigal Son: A Story of Homecoming

“In The Archangel Raphael Leaving Tobias' Family, Rembrandt leaves dirt on the shadowed soles of Raphael's feet as he flies off, illuminated in glory. Passing by the painting, one sees the dramatic action, the melodramatic emotions, and the re-created narrative events of the Bible. Slowed down a bit, the viewer sees light across a large muscular calf, a strong and sharply shaped ankle, and then dirty feet. The angel who tells us he only pretended to eat - this to explain away all traces of his apparent earthliness as a fallen creaturely being - is here on the canvas with dirty feet, carrying soil, the created, to the creator. Van Gogh had rightly said there are mysteries in these paintings. They are mysteries of device and design, not of messianic significance. They require a docent and not a priest, a creative critic to guide the view of specific images, not a guardian of mysteries and master of their enigmatic authority. Dirty feet on the soles of an archangel famous for his annunciations give the viewer a point of view on the inescapably human nature of the narrated God. Raphael may no eat. He may believe he creates an illusion to satisfy the religious desire for mythological consistency, but even archangels deceive themselves as well as others. Humans sometimes do the same in inventing the transcendence they need or think they want - creating a regime from which the priestly classes rule, even theorizing the alienation of the divine. Deceit is an essential device of cultural adaptation. It constructs needed beliefs that at high and low levels of thought or action complement their existence with modes of self-defense, which protect them from not only needed analysis but also the importance of failure.”
― Paul A. Bové, Love's Shadow

“Rembrandt's soiled angelic feet wittily recall the importance of humility, of the values inherent in the hesitant truths of comedy, which disassemble the official positions and advance needed alternatives. Those soiled souls let us laugh at some of the all-knowing stories catastrophists and the all-knowing innocents tell from the confidence of their own echo chambers. Those soiled feet give us to see how the built-up tales of apocalyptic cultural collapse deserve the smile of those who knew bettter all along.”
― Paul A. Bové, Love’s Shadow

“I stepped closer and studied the oil on canvas. The scene displayed ocean waves tossing a fisherman’s ship to and fro, a crewmember frantically pulling on the sail while twelve other petrified fishermen held onto the ship’s mast or ropes. The boat’s captain remained calm. Only one fisher’s eyes stared unafraid straight at me—the one that resembled the painter himself, like he knew the ending of the story before I did.”
― Robin M. King, Remembrandt

“By painting himself into the boat in The Storm on the Sea of Galilee, Rembrandt wants us to know that he believes his life will either be lost in a sea of chaos or preserved by the Son of God. Those are his only two options. And by peering through the storm and out of the frame to us, he asks if we are not in the same boat.”
― Russ Ramsey, Rembrandt Is in the Wind: Learning to Love Art through the Eyes of Faith