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| Lucian Freud Still Life with Chelsea Buns 1943 oil on panel Carnegie Museum of Art, Pittsburgh |
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| Pekka Halonen Still Life 1894 oil on canvas Ateneum Art Museum, Helsinki |
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| Alfred Wickenburg Still Life with Books 1924 oil on canvas Graphische Sammlung Albertina, Vienna |
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| Anonymous Flemish Artist Still Life with Strawberries ca. 1600-1625- oil on panel Detroit Institute of Arts |
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| Harm Kamerlingh Onnes Still Life with Pudding Mold 1931 oil on panel Museum De Lakenhal, Leiden |
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| Herbert Ploberger Still Life 1925 oil on canvas Graphische Sammlung Albertina, Vienna |
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| Andreas Georgiadis Still Life ca. 1930 oil on canvas National Gallery, Athens |
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| Georg Hinz Still Life with Ewer 1666 oil on canvas Deutsche Barockgalerie, Augsburg |
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| Levi Wells Prentice Still Life with Strawberries ca. 1890 oil on canvas Carnegie Museum of Art, Pittsburgh |
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| Nils Schillmark Still Life with Candle ca. 1795-97 oil on canvas Ateneum Art Museum, Helsinki |
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| Rudolf Wacker Still Life with Funnel 1931 oil on panel Graphische Sammlung Albertina, Vienna |
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| Louise Moillon Still Life with Fruit and Asparagus 1630 oil on panel Art Institute of Chicago |
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| Isaak Soreau Still Life with Strawberries ca. 1630-35 tempera and oil on panel Cincinnati Art Museum, Ohio |
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| Panayiotis Tetsis Still Life 1998 watercolor on paper National Gallery, Athens |
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| Émile Bernard Still Life 1887 oil on canvas High Museum of Art, Atlanta |
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| Giorgio Morandi Still Life ca. 1958 oil on canvas Carnegie Museum of Art, Pittsburgh |
from The Island of Statues
Hear, daughter of the days.
Behold the loving loveless flower of lone ways,
Well-nigh immortal in this charmèd clime;
Thou shalt outlive thine amorous happy time,
And dead as are the lovers of old rhyme
Shall be the hunter-lover of thy youth.
Yet evermore, through all thy days of ruth,
Shall grow thy beauty and thy dreamless truth;
As a hurt leopard fills with ceaseless moan
And aimless wanderings the woodlands lone,
Thy soul shall be, though pitiless and bright
It is, yet shall it fail thee day and night
Beneath the burden of the infinite,
In those far years, O daughter of the days,
And when thou hast these things for ages felt,
The red squirrel shall rear her young where thou hast dwelt.
– W.B. Yeats (1885)