How we cite our quotes: (Part.Chapter.Paragraph)
Quote #4
"Sir, you, Mr. Painter. Do you see the spots where pictures lately hung, now sold off to pay the debts of your academy's intransigence? I would like a simple mural there depicting the sciences and arts allegorized, sitting on top of Utility."
The painter hesitated. "Sitting atop Utility? Are they… hurting him? What is Utility?"
"Perhaps an ox," said Mr. Sharpe. "With an humble countenance." (2.3.19-21)
Wonder what bad art might look like? Just imagine Mr. Sharpe's mural. Sure, the painter might make the whole thing look amazing, but the idea of it just kind of goes against the whole idea of art for art's sake. In Mr. Sharpe's world, the arts only exist if they have a practical purpose—a utility.
Quote #5
By the transport of books, that which is most foreign becomes one's familiar walks and avenues; while that which is most familiar is removed to delightful strangeness; and unmoving, one travels infinite causeways; immobile and thus unfettered. (2.8.2)
We couldn't have said this better ourselves. Octavian's explaining his love for books to us, a love that's even more pronounced since—at this point in the novel—he isn't allowed to read any books with a storyline under Mr. Sharpe's orders. Which brings up this thought: note how eloquently Octavian's words are. Would he be so eloquent about the significance of books if he were still allowed to read them? Is he this poetic, in part, because he misses them so much?
Quote #6
Cheerful and gay. Sweetness and light. These words stood before me like a rebuke of everything I loved in music. I held them before me as we pulled up by Faneuil Hall. I took my teeth around them as I sat behind a column at the theater, waiting to step out and play. I meditated upon them when I made my way out before the orchestra, before the silent multitude of Boston's finest citizens. I gazed before me, and, holding the bow aloft above the strings, envisioned Mr. Sharpe's gray face, turned to the side, as he instructed me, "Remember beauty. Sweetness and light. Cheerful and gay"—and I began the sonata. (2.9.33)
Could you imagine anyone telling Prince (as in the Artist Formerly Known as Prince, not Octavian) how to play or sing his music? No, right? Especially if the person doing the telling has no clue what good music is. But this passage is setting us up to think that Octavian—who hates what Mr. Sharpe is asking of him—is going to do just that—play "The Devil's Trill" sweetly and lightly. But of course that's not what happens (insert evil cackle)…