Louvre Quotes

“On arrival at Orly Airport, Fritz and Magda hired a taxi which drove them to the city. They saw before them a metropolis crowned with triumphal architecture and magnificent monuments. The first Parisian landmark that caught their eye was the majestic Eiffel Tower and, in the background, on a distant hill, the white church of Montmartre. They immediately opted that their hotel could wait and asked the driver to take them around the city, though they knew that this would cost them a whole day's budget.

What they began to see was simply spectacular: wide areas edified with splendid monuments, fantastic fountains, enchanting gardens and bronze statues representing the best exponents who flourished in the city, amongst whom artists, philosophers, musicians and great writers. The River Seine fascinated them, with boatloads of tourists all eager to see as much as they could of the city. They also admired a number of bridges, amongst which the flamboyant Pont Alexandre III. The driver, a friendly, balding man of about fifty, with moustaches à la Clemenceau, informed them that quite nearby there was the famous Pont Neuf which, ironically, was the first to be built way back in 1607. They continued their tour...”
― ANTON SAMMUT, Memories of Recurrent Echoes

“The twins spend their second day in Paris at the Louvre.

''... Really great geniuses, eh Fritz? One could barely call them human beings.''

'' As a matter of fact, I don't think they were... just superior beings from some other planet... perhaps from the same one that gave us Mozart and Plato, for it's impossible that a mere human being create such monumental works.''

''Wonderful...”
― Anton Sammut, Memories of Recurrent Echoes

“In the following days the twins went all over the city; they visited more museums, particularly the avant-garde ones. Whenever Magda spotted a Van Gogh her eyes would fill with tears, remembering the aberrational agony this great artist had gone through. The work that stirred her most was one of those many self-portraits of the artist in a sober and tormented mood; a painting built by many heavy brushstrokes of dense undiluted paint applied spirally giving the impression that the image was materializing from a turquoise background. Magda spent a full ten minutes before one such portrait. When she returned back to earth she noticed a young man beside her, as absorbed with the painting as she was and whose face looked familiar.”
― Anton Sammut, Memories of Recurrent Echoes

“Era deopotrivă o consolare și o mare tristețe să te simți atât de diferit de ceilalti oameni. Își coborî spre ei ochii spălăciți. Valul de mașini nu mai contenea, iar figurile sumbre și îngrijorate semănau toate între ele. Biata specie! Ce-o preocupa? Ce va mânca, ce va bea? El se gândea la catedrala din Rouen, la castelele de pe Loare, la Luvru. Una singură dintre aceste pietre venerabile face cât o mie de vieți omenești.”
― Irène Némirovsky, Suite Française

“The Louvre’s much restored three wings or pavilions, the Sully, Denon, and Richelieu, were once the galleries where courtiers enjoyed royal hospitality and entertainments (and The Princesse de Clèves her secret surges of immoral passion). On a quiet un-crowded evening visit to the Louvre, it’s easy to imagine the masked and dancing couples in these pavilions, the rustle of silk, the whisperings of lovers, the royal entourage.

The Louvre’s art collection was the result of François I’s enterprising enthusiasm for Italian art. He imported masterpieces by Uccello, Titian, Giorgione, and, most notably, Leonardo da Vinci himself, whose Mona Lisa—La Joconde in French—was and remains the most valued painting in the royal collection. Montaigne does not mention the paintings or the Italian sculptor Benvenuto Cellini whom François also imported to help transform gloomy Paris into a city of bright and saucy opulence.”
― Susan Cahill, The Streets of Paris: A Guide to the City of Light Following in the Footsteps of Famous Parisians Throughout History

“Je suis venu à Paris avec quatre écus dans ma poche, et je me serais battu avec quiconque m'aurait dit que je n'étais pas en état d'acheter le Louvre.”
― Alexandre Dumas, The Three Musketeers

“I think if someone would be in the Louvre
who looks just like the Mona Lisa - the people wouldn’t care about her -
because the only thing they admire is the soul captured in the painting
not the body that is mortal.”
― Laura Chouette

“[Refiriéndose al Louvre] Si alguien me pregunta si encuentro bello el palacio que veo ante mí, puedo decir: no me gustan ese tipo de cosas [...]; puedo, aún más, reprochar en buen estilo rousseauniano la vanidad de los grandes, que emplean el sudor del pueblo en cosas tan superfluas [...]. Se me puede conceder y aprobar todo esto; pero no es de eso de lo que trata aquí [...]. Para hacer de juez en materia de gusto, uno no debe estar en lo más mínimo predispuesto en favor de la existencia de la cosa, sino ser a este respecto por completo indiferente.”
― Immanuel Kant, Crítica al poder de juzgar: Una nueva traducción

“Jean smirked and raised an eyebrow at Leor. “Would you like to fly through the Louvre?”

Leor couldn’t perceive how that would even be possible. But Jean would inevitably find a way. “No, no!” Leor ardently replied. “Let’s just land there and take a walk. Look at some statues, get some air.”

“Ah, but do we not have plenty of air, flowing around up here in the skies?” Jean asked, diving down towards the Seine, and then sharply pulling up along one of the slopes.

“Would you like me to vomit again?” Leor asked, with a hand near his mouth.”
― Zechariah Barrett

“In May 1830, when in Paris alone with little Maurice, she found herself going to museums—the Louvre, the Luxembourg. It was not the first time, but she returned again and again, "as if drunk and nailed to the Titians, the Tintorettos, the Rubens." She suddenly responded to painting as she had long before to music. Whatever métier, whatever trade or profession she would choose, she knew she would be an artist—in letters, in life, in her very being.”
― Joseph Amber Barry, Infamous Woman: the life of George Sand

“Fine art won't fill me up, y'know.”
― Taiyo Matsumoto, Cats of the Louvre

“If you were an artist, wouldn't you want to have your studio in the Louvre?”
― Borja González, A Gift for a Ghost

“My favourite letter, of all the ones I have received.

"Hello.

I cried in a museum in front of a Gaugin painting - because somehow he had managed to paint a transparent pink dress. I could almost see the dress wafting in the hot breeze.

I cried at the Louvre in front of Victory. She had no arms, but she was so tall.

I cried (so hard I had to leave) at a little concern where a young man played solo cello Bach suites. It was in a weird little Methodist church and there were only about fifteen of us in the audience, the cellist alone on the stage. It was midday. I cried because (I guess) I was overcome with love. It was impossible for me to shake the sensation (mental, physical) that J.S. Bach was in the room with me, and I loved him.

These three instances (and the others I am now recollecting) I think have something to do with loneliness… a kind of craving for the company of beauty. Others, I suppose, might say God.

But this feels too simple a response.

Robin Parks”
― James Elkins, Pictures and Tears

“[w]hat he had failed to take into account was the impact (...) of seeing the Arc de Triomphe and the Louvre lit up at night for the very first time. True, Sophia had seen them the day before (...) but just as the Count had imagined, she had seen them through the window of a bus. It was a different thing altogether to see them at the onset of summer having received an ovation, changed one's appearance, and escaped into the night. For while in the classical tradition there was no muse of architecture, I think we can agree that under the right circumstances the appearance of a building can impress itself upon one's memory, affect one's sentiments, and even change one's life. Just so, risking minutes that she did not have to spare, Sophia came to a stop at the Place de la Concorde and turned slowly in place, as if in a moment of recognition.”
― Amor Towles, A Gentleman in Moscow