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If You Will Believe Me, You Who Are Young, Yours Is The Golden Season Of Life. As You Have Heard It Called, So It Verily Is, The Seed-time Of Life; In Which, If You Do Not Sow, Or If You Sow Tares Instead Of Wheat, You Cannot Expect To Reap Well Afterwards, And You Will Arrive At Little. And In The Course Of Years When You Come To Look Back, If You Have Not Done What You Have Heard From Your Advisers,-and Among Many Counsellors There Is Wisdom,-you Will Bitterly Repent When It Is Too Late.

-Thomas Carlyle

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If You Will Believe

Thomas Carlyle

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If You Will Believe Me, You Who Are Young, Yours Is The Golden Season Of Life. As You Have Heard It Called, So It Verily Is, The Seed-time Of Life; In Which, If You Do Not Sow, Or If You Sow Tares Instead Of Wheat, You Cannot Expect To Reap Well Afterwards, And You Will Arrive At Little. And In The Course Of Years When You Come To Look Back, If You Have Not Done What You Have Heard From Your Advisers,-and Among Many Counsellors There Is Wisdom,-you Will Bitterly Repent When It Is Too Late.

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It Were A Real Increase Of Human Happiness, Could All Young Men From The Age Of Nineteen Be Covered Under Barrels, Or Rendered Otherwise Invisible; And There Left To Follow Their Lawful Studies And Callings, Till They Emerged, Sadder And Wiser, At The Age Of Twenty-five.

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Out Of The Lowest Depths There Is A Path To The Loftiest Heights.

Democracy Will Itself Accomplish The Salutary Universal Change From Delusive To Real, And Make A New Blessed World Of Us By And By.

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All History . . . Is An Inarticulate Bible.

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What A Wretched Thing Is All Fame! A Renown Of The Highest Sort Endures, Say, For Two Thousand Years. And Then? Why, Then, A Fathomless Eternity Swallows It. Work For Eternity; Not The Meagre Rhetorical Eternity Of The Periodical Critics, But For The Real Eternity Wherein Dwelleth The Divine.

The Essence Of Humor Is Sensibility; Warm, Tender Fellow-feeling With All Forms Of Existence.

For Man Is Not The Creature And Product Of Mechanism; But, In A Far Truer Sense, Its Creator And Producer.

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The Leafy Blossoming Present Time Springs From The Whole Past, Remembered And Unrememberable.

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Endurance Is Patience Concentrated.

He That Has Done Nothing Has Known Nothing.

If Time Is Precious, No Book That Will Not Improve By Repeated Readings Deserves To Be Read At All.

Fancy That Thou Deservest To Be Hangedthou Wilt Feel It Happiness To Be Only Shot: Fancy That Thou Deservest To Be Hanged Ina Hair Halter, It Will Be A Luxury To Die In Hemp.

Man's Earthly Interests,'are All Hooked And Buttoned Together, And Held Up, By Clothes.

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The Eternal Stars Shine Out Again, So Soon As It Is Dark Enough.

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It Is A Mathematical Fact That The Casting Of This Pebble From My Hand Alters The Centre Of Gravity Of The Universe.

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He That Can Work Is Born To Be King Of Something.

The Greatest Fault Is To Be Conscious Of None.

Nature, After All, Is Still The Grand Agent In Making Poets.

The Stifled Hum Of Midnight, When Traffic Has Lain Down To Rest, And The Chariot Wheels Of Vanity, Still Rolling Here And There Through Distant Streets, Are Bearing Her To Halls Roofed In And Lighted To The Due Pitch For Her; And Only Vice And Misery, To Prowl Or To Moan Like Night Birds, Are Abroad.

Tobacco Smoke Is The One Element In Which, By Our European Manners, Men Can Sit Silent Together Without Embarrassment, And Where No Man Is Bound To Speak One Word More Than He Has Actually And Veritably Got To Say. Nay, Rather Every Man Is Admonished And Enjoined By The Laws Of Honor, And Even Of Personal Ease, To Stop Short Of That Point; And At All Events To Hold His Peace And Take To His Pipe Again The Instant He Has Spoken His Meaning, If He Chance To Have Any.

Professors Of The Dismal Science, I Perceive The Length Of Your Tether Is Now Pretty Well Run; And I Must Request You To Talk A Little Lower In The Future.

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Man Always Worships Something; Always He Sees The Infinite Shadowed Forth In Something Finite; And Indeed Can And Must So See It In Any Finite Thing, Once Tempt Him Well To Fix His Eyes Thereon.

The First Sin In Our Universe Was Lucifer's Self Conceit.

Feel It In Thy Heart And Then Say Whether It Is Of God!

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Goethe's Devil Is A Cultivated Personage And Acquainted With The Modern Sciences; Sneers At Witchcraft And The Black Art Even While Employing Them, And Doubts Most Things, Nay, Half Disbelieves Even His Own Existence.

War Is A Quarrel Between Two Thieves Too Cowardly To Fight Their Own Battle; Therefore They Take Boys From One Village And Another Village, Stick Them Into Uniforms, Equip Them With Guns, And Let Them Loose Like Wild Beasts Against One Other.

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The Lightning Spark Of Thought Generated In The Solitary Mind Awakens Its Likeness In Another Mind.

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They Wrong Man Greatly Who Say He Is To Be Seduced By Ease. Difficulty, Abnegation, Martyrdom, Death Are The Allurements That Act On The Heart Of Man.

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The Purpose Of Man Is In Action Not Thought.

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Happy The People Whose Annals Are Blank In History Books!

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Adversity Is The Diamond Dust Heaven Polishes Its Jewels With.

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A Man Lives By Believing Something.

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The Highest Being Reveals Himself In Man.

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A False Man Found A Religion? Why, A False Man Cannot Build A Brick House!

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Good Breeding Differs, If At All, From High Breeding Only As It Gracefully Remembers The Rights Of Others, Rather Than Gracefully Insists On Its Own Rights.

Great Souls Are Always Loyally Submissive, Reverent To What Is Over Them: Only Small Mean Souls Are Otherwise.

The End Of Man Is An Action, And Not A Thought, Though It Were The Noblest?

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A Poor Creature Who Has Said Or Done Nothing Worth A Serious Man Taking The Trouble Of Remembering.

Histories Are A Kind Of Distilled Newspapers.

No Violent Extreme Endures.

Clean Undeniable Right, Clear Undeniable Might: Either Of These Once Ascertained Puts An End To Battle. All Battle Is A Confused Experiment To Ascertain One And Both Of These.

Leaders: Captains Of Industry.

Hero-worship Exists, Has Existed, And Will Forever Exist, Universally, Among Mankind.

What You See, But Can't See Over Is As Good As Infinite.

What Are Your Axioms, And Categories, And Systems, And Aphorisms? Words, Words.... Be Not The Slave Of Words.

The Present Is The Living Sum-total Of The Whole Past.

Speech Is Great, But Silence Is Greater.

He Who Has Health, Has Hope; And He Who Has Hope, Has Everything.

Nature Is The Time-vesture Of God That Reveals Him To The Wise, And Hides Him From The Foolish.

He That Has A Secret Should Not Only Hide It, But Hide That He Has It To Hide.

History Is The Distillation Of Rumour.

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Wonder Is The Basis Of Worship.

The Soul Gives Unity To What It Looks At With Love.

Only The Person Of Worth Can Recognize The Worth In Others.

The Aristocracy Of Feudal Parchment Has Passed Away With A Mighty Rushing, And Now, By A Natural Course, We Arrive At Aristocracy Of The Money-bag.

I Have Seen Gleams In The Face And Eyes Of The Man That Have Let You Look Into A Higher Country.

We Have Not The Love Of Greatness, But The Love Of The Love Of Greatness.

Oblivion Is The Dark Page, Whereon Memory Writes Her Light-beam Characters, And Makes Them Legible; Were It All Light, Nothing Could Be Read There, Any More Than If It Were All Darkness.

Man Is, Properly Speaking, Based Upon Hope, He Has No Other Possession But Hope; This World Of His Is Emphatically The Place Of Hope.

Good Christian People, Here Lies For You An Inestimable Loan; Take All Heed Thereof, In All Carefulness, Employ It: With High Recompense, Or Else With Heavy Penalty, Will It One Day Be Required Back.

Nature Alone Is Antique, And The Oldest Art A Mushroom.

Rare Benevolence, The Minister Of God.

Hunger Whets Everything, Especially Suspicion And Indignation.

Experience Takes Dreadfully High School-wages, But He Teaches Like No Other.

The True Eye For Talent Presupposes The True Reverence For It.

The Goal Of Yesterday Will Be Our Starting-point To-morrow.

Men Seldom, Or Rather Never For A Length Of Time And Deliberately, Rebel Against Anything That Does Not Deserve Rebelling Against.

At The Bottom There Is No Perfect History; There Is None Such Conceivable. All Past Centuries Have Rotted Down, And Gone Confusedly Dumb And Quiet.

And Yet Without Labour There Were No Ease, No Rest, So Much As Conceivable.

The Devil Has His Elect.

The Outer Passes Away; The Innermost Is The Same Yesterday, Today, And Forever.

But Deepest Of All Illusory Appearances, For Hiding Wonder, As For Many Other Ends, Are Your Two Grand Fundamental World-enveloping Appearances, Space And Time. These, As Spun And Woven For Us From Before Birth Itself, To Clothe Our Celestial Me For Dwelling Here, And Yet To Blind It, Lie All-embracing, As The Universal Canvas, Or Warp And Woof, Whereby All Minor Illusions, In This Phantasm Existence, Weave And Paint Themselves. In Vain, While Here On Earth, Shall You Endeavor To Strip Them Off; You Can, At Best, But Rend Them Asunder For Moments, And Look Through.

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Instead Of Saying That Man Is The Creature Of Circumstance, It Would Be Nearer The Mark To Say That Man Is The Architect Of Circumstance.

Bricks And Mortar

A Vein Of Poetry Exists In The Hearts Of All Men.

Genius Is An Infinite Capacity For Taking Pains.

Weak Eyes Are Fondest Of Glittering Objects.

A Person Who Is Gifted Sees The Essential Point And Leaves The Rest As Surplus.

Focus And Concentration

Cash-payment Is Not The Sole Nexus Of Man With Man.

Oh, Give Us The Man Who Sings At His Work.

The Insignificant, The Empty, Is Usually The Loud; And After The Manner Of A Drum, Is Louder Even Because Of Its Emptiness.

Universal History, The History Of What Man Has Accomplished In This World, Is At Bottom The History Of The Great Men Who Have Worked Here.

We Have Not Read An Author Till We Have Seen His Object, Whatever It May Be, As He Saw It.

Let Him Who Would Move And Convince Others, Be First Moved And Convinced Himself.

It Is Meritorious To Insist On Forms; Religion And All Else Naturally Clothes Itself In Forms. Everywhere The Formed World Is The Only Habitable One.

Thou Fool! Nature Alone Is Antique, And The Oldest Art A Mushroom; That Idle Crag Thou Sittest On Is Six Thousand Years Of Age.

The Greatest Security Against Sin Is To Be Shocked At Its Presence.

Books Are A Triviality. Life Alone Is Great.

A Word Spoken In Season, At The Right Moment; Is The Mother Of Ages.

This World, After All Our Science And Sciences, Is Still A Miracle; Wonderful, Inscrutable, Magical And More, To Whosoever Will Think Of It.

Magic In The World

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Eternity Looks Grander And Kinder If Time Grow Meaner And More Hostile.

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A Man's Religion Consists, Not Of The Many Things He Is In Doubt Of And Tries To Believe, But Of The Few He Is Assured Of And Has No Need Of Effort For Believing.

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No Pressure, No Diamonds.

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The King Is The Man Who Can.

I Don't Like To Talk Much With People Who Always Agree With Me. It Is Amusing To Coquette With An Echo For A Little While, But One Soon Tires Of It.

Fame, We May Understand, Is No Sure Test Of Merit, But Only A Probability Of Such; It Is An Accident, Not A Property Of Man.

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If You Look Deep Enough You Will See Music; The Heart Of Nature Being Everywhere Music.

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Venerable To Me Is The Hard Hand,--crooked, Coarse,--wherein, Notwithstanding, Lies A Cunning Virtue, Indispensably Royal As Of The Sceptre Of The Planet.

We Have Our Little Theory On All Human And Divine Things. Poetry, The Workings Of Genius Itself, Which, In All Times, With One Or Another Meaning, Has Been Called Inspiration, And Held To Be Mysterious And Inscrutable, Is No Longer Without Its Scientific Exposition. The Building Of The Lofty Rhyme Is Like Any Other Masonry Or Bricklaying: We Have Theories Of Its Rise, Height, Decline And Fall -- Which Latter, It Would Seem, Is Now Near, Among All People.

Not On Morality, But On Cookery, Let Us Build Our Stronghold: There Brandishing Our Frying-pan, As Censer, Let Us Offer Sweet Incense To The Devil, And Live At Ease On The Fat Things He Has Provided For His Elect!

Every Noble Crown Is, And On Earth Will Forever Be, A Crown Of Thorns.

The Coldest Word Was Once A Glowing New Metaphor.

Silence Is More Eloquent Than Words.

The Merit Of Originality Is Not Novelty; It Is Sincerity. The Believing Man Is The Original Man; Whatsoever He Believes, He Believes It For Himself, Not For Another.

The Person Who Cannot Laugh Is Not Only Ready For Treason, And Deceptions, Their Whole Life Is Already A Treason And Deception.

Creation Is Great, And Cannot Be Understood.

All Great Peoples Are Conservative.

Speak Not At All, In Any Wise, Till You Have Somewhat To Speak; Care Not For The Reward Of Your Speaking, But Simply And With Undivided Mind For The Truth Of Your Speaking.

Poverty, We May Say, Surrounds A Man With Ready-made Barriers, Which If They Do Mournfully Gall And Hamper, Do At Least Prescribe For Him, And Force On Him, A Sort Of Course And Goal; A Safe And Beaten, Though A Circuitous, Course. A Great Part Of His Guidance Is Secure Against Fatal Error, Is Withdrawn From His Control. The Rich, Again, Has His Whole Life To Guide, Without Goal Or Barrier, Save Of His Own Choosing, And, Tempted, Is Too Likely To Guide It Ill.

True Friends, Like Ivy And The Wall Both Stand Together, And Together Fall.

Man Is, And Was Always, A Block-head And Dullard; Much Readier To Feel And Digest, Than To Think And Consider.

Habit And Imitation--there Is Nothing More Perennial In Us Than These Two. They Are The Source Of All Working, And All Apprenticeship, Of All Practice, And All Learning, In This World.

There Are Good And Bad Times, But Our Mood Changes More Often Than Our Fortune.

Heroism Is The Divine Relation Which, In All Times, Unites A Great Man To Other Men.

'genius' Which Means Transcendent Capacity Of Taking Trouble, First Of All.

The Hell Of These Days Is The Fear Of Not Getting Along, Especially Of Not Making Money.

Eyes Bright, With Many Tears, Behind Them.

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