Background Image

...

One Seems To Believe Almost All That They Believe; And When They Stop Short And Call It A Religion, And You Pass On, And Call It Only A Reminiscence Of One, Should You Not Part With The Kiss Of Peace?

-Thomas Carlyle

...

Please Wait....
Translating....

One Seems To Believe

Thomas Carlyle

...

One Seems To Believe Almost All That They Believe; And When They Stop Short And Call It A Religion, And You Pass On, And Call It Only A Reminiscence Of One, Should You Not Part With The Kiss Of Peace?

Views: 7

Topic

More From Thomas Carlyle

Love Is The Only Game That Is Not Called On Account Of Darkness.

There Is Always Hope In A Man That Actually And Earnestly Works: In Idleness Alone Is There Perpetual Despair.

One Seems To Believe Almost All That They Believe; And When They Stop Short And Call It A Religion, And You Pass On, And Call It Only A Reminiscence Of One, Should You Not Part With The Kiss Of Peace?

The Man Of Life Upright Has A Guiltless Heart, Free From All Dishonest Deeds Or Thought Of Vanity.

Conclusive Facts Are Inseparable From Inconclusive Except By A Head That Already Understands And Knows.

O Thou That Pinest In The Imprisonment Of The Actual, And Criest Bitterly To The Gods For A Kingdom Wherein To Rule And Create, Know This For A Truth: The Thing Thou Seekest Is Already Here, "here Or Nowhere," Couldst Thou Only See.

Biography Is The Most Universally Pleasant And Profitable Of All Reading.

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.

Out Of Eternity The New Day Is Born; Into Eternity At Night Will Return.

In Every Phenomenon The Beginning Remains Always The Most Notable Moment.

In Books Lies The Soul Of The Whole Past Time; The Articulate Audible Voice Of The Past, When The Body And Material Substance Of It Has Altogether Vanished Like A Dream.

It Is The First Of All Problems For A Man To Find Out What Kind Of Work He Is To Do In This Universe.

The Bible Is The Truest Utterance That Ever Came By Alphabetic Letters From The Soul Of Man, Through Which, As Through A Window Divinely Opened, All Men Can Look Into The Stillness Of Eternity, And Discern In Glimpses Their Far-distant, Long-forgotten Home.

How, Without Clothes, Could We Possess The Master Organ, Soul's Seat And True Pineal Gland Of The Body Social--i Mean A Purse?

To Be True Is Manly, Chivalrous, Christian; To Be False Is Mean, Cowardly, Devilish.

Laissez-faire, Supply And Demand-one Begins To Be Weary Of All That. Leave All To Egotism, To Ravenous Greed Of Money, Of Pleasure, Of Applause-it Is The Gospel Of Despair.

Poetry Is The Attempt Which Man Makes To Render His Existence Harmonious.

To The Wisest Man, Wide As Is His Vision. Nature Remains Of Quite Infinite Depth, Of Quite Infinite Expansion And All Experience Thereof Limits Itself To Some Few Computed Centuries And Measured Square Miles.

Show Me The Man You Honor; I Know By That Symptom, Better Than By Any Other, What Kind Of Man You Yourself Are. For You Show Me There What Your Ideal Of Manhood Is; What Kind Of Man You Long Inexpressibly To Be.

O Heaven, It Is Mysterious, It Is Awful To Consider That We Not Only Carry Each A Future Ghost Within Him; But Are, In Very Deed, Ghosts!

The Public Is Anold Woman.let Her Maunderand Mumble.

Is Not Every Meanest Day The Confluence Of Two Eternities?

Life Is A Series Of Lessons That Have To Be Understood.

In The Huge Mass Of Evil As It Rolls And Swells, There Is Ever Some Good Working Toward Deliverance And Triumph.

On The Whole, I Would Bid You Stand Up To Your Work, Whatever It May Be, And Not Be Afraid Of It; Not In Sorrows Or Contradictions To Yield, But To Push On Towards The Goal.

Society Is Founded Upon Cloth.

Money Will Buy Money's Worth; But The Thing Men Call Fame, What Is It?

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

The Modern Majesty Consists In Work. What A Man Can Do Is His Greatest Ornament, And He Always Consults His Dignity By Doing It.

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

Evil And Good Are Everywhere, Like Shadow And Substance; Inseparable (for Men) Yet Not Hostile, Only Opposed.

The Genuine Essence Of Truth Never Dies.

No Person Is Important Enough To Make Me Angry.

Is Not Light Grander Than Fire? It Is The Same Element In A State Of Purity.

Song Is The Heroics Of Speech.

Endurance Is Patience Concentrated.

The English Are A Dumb People. They Can Do Great Acts, But Not Describe Them.

No Good Book, Or Good Thing Of Any Sort, Shows Its Best Face At First.

Social Science, Is Not A 'gay Science' But Rueful, Which Finds The Secret Of This Universe In 'supply And Demand' And Reduces The Duty Of Human Governors To That Of Letting Men Alone. Not A 'gay Science', No, A Dreary, Desolate, And Indeed Quite Abject And Distressing One; What We Might Call, The Dismal Science

Except By Name, Jean Paul Friedrich Richter Is Little Known Out Of Germany. The Only Thing Connected With Him, We Think, That Has Reached This Country Is His Saying,-imported By Madame De Staël, And Thankfully Pocketed By Most Newspaper Critics,-"providence Has Given To The French The Empire Of The Land; To The English That Of The Sea; To The Germans That Of-the Air!" Richter: German Humorist & Prose Writer.

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

All That A University Or Final Highest School. Can Do For Us Is Still But What The First School Began Doing--teach Us To Read. We Learn To Read In Various Languages, In Various Sciences; We Learn The Alphabet And Letters Of All Manner Of Books. But The Place Where We Are To Get Knowledge, Even Theoretic Knowledge, Is The Books Themselves. It Depends On What We Read, After All Manner Of Professors Have Done Their Best For Us. The True University Of These Days Is A Collection Of Books.

A Person With Half Volition Goes Backwards And Forwards, But Makes No Progress On Even The Smoothest Of Roads.

I Too Acknowledge The All-out Omnipotence Of Early Culture And Nature; Hereby We Have Either A Doddered Dwarf-bush, Or A High-towering, Wide-shadowing Tree! Either A Sick Yellow Cabbage, Or An Edible Luxuriant Green One. Of A Truth, It Is The Duty Of All Men, Especially Of All Philosophers, To Note Down With Accuracy The Characteristic Circumstances Of Their Education,--what Furthered, What Hindered, What In Any Way Modified It.

Parties On The Back Of Parties, At War With The World And With Each Other.

Are We Not Spirits, That Are Shaped Into A Body, Into An Appearance; And That Fade Away Again Into Air And Invisibility? Oh, Heaven, It Is Mysterious, It Is Awful To Consider That We Not Only Carry A Future Ghost Within Us; But Are, In Very Deed, Ghosts! These Limbs, Whence Had We Them; This Stormy Force; This Life-blood With Its Burning Passion? They Are Dust And Shadow; A Shadow-system Gathered Round Our Me; Wherein, Through Some Moments Or Years, The Divine Essence Is To Be Revealed In The Flesh.

To Believe Practically That The Poor And Luckless Are Here Only As A Nusiance To Be Abraded And Abated, And In Some Permissable Manner Made Away With, And Swept Out Of Sight, Is Not An Amiable Faith.

Every Man Has A Coward And Hero In His Soul.

What Are Your Historical Facts Still More Your Biographical Wilt Thou Know A Man By Stringing-together Beadrolls Of What Thou Namest Facts

Insurrection, Never So Necessary, Is A Most Sad Necessity; And Governors Who Wait For That To Instruct Them Are Surely Getting Into The Fatalest Course.

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

Silence, The Great Empire Of Silence: Higher Than All Stars; Deeper Than The Kingdom Of Death! It Alone Is Great; All Else Is Small.

No Good Book Or Good Thing Of Any Kind Shows It Best Face At First. No The Most Common Quality Of In A True Work Of Art That Has Excellence And Depth, Is That At First Sight It Produces A Certain Disappointment.

We Have Chosen Mahomet Not As The Most Eminent Prophet; But As The One We Are Freest To Speak Of. He Is By No Means The Truest Of Prophets; But I Do Esteem Him A True One.

Statistics, One May Hope, Will Improve Gradually, And Become Good For Something. Meanwhile, It Is To Be Feared The Crabbed Satirist Was Partly Right, As Things Go: "a Judicious Man," Says He, "looks At Statistics, Not To Get Knowledge, But To Save Himself From Having Ignorance Foisted On Him."

History After All Is The True Poetry.

Look To Be Treated By Others As You Have Treated Others.

The Orator Persuades And Carries All With Him, He Knows Not How; The Rhetorician Can Prove That He Ought To Have Persuaded And Carried All With Him.

The Only Happiness A Brave Person Ever Troubles Themselves In Asking About, Is Happiness Enough To Get Their Work Done.

Why Tell Me That A Man Is A Fine Speaker, If It Is Not The Truth That He Is Speaking?

That Great Mystery Of Time, Were There No Other; The Illimitable, Silent, Never-resting Thing Called Time, Rolling, Rushing On, Swift, Silent, Like An All-embracing Ocean Tide, On Which We And All The Universe Swim Like Exhalations, Like Apparitions Which Are, And Then Are Not: This Is Forever Very Literally A Miracle; A Thing To Strike Us Dumb,-for We Have No Word To Speak About It.

The True Epic Of Our Times Is Not "arm's And The Man," But "tools And The Man"--an Infinitely Wider Kind Of Epic.

It Is Through Symbols That Man Consciously Or Unconsciously Lives, Works And Has His Being.

All History . . . Is An Inarticulate Bible.

Doubt Of Any Kind Cannot Be Resolved Except By Action.

The Battle That Never Ends Is The Battle Of Belief Against Disbelief

Pin Thy Faith To No Man's Sleeve. Hast Thou Not Two Eyes Of Thy Own?

Parliament Will Train You To Talk; And Above All Things To Hear, With Patience, Unlimited Quantities Of Foolish Talk.

Fire Is The Best Of Servants, But What A Master!

The End Of Man Is Action.

I Call That [book Of Job], Apart From All Theories About It, One Of The Grandest Things Ever Written With Pen.

History Is A Mighty Dramos, Enacted Upon The Theatre Of Times, With Suns For Lamps And Eternity For A Background.

The Greatest Mistake Is To Imagine That We Never Err.

What, In The Devil's Name, Is The Use Of Respectability, With Never So Many Gigs And Silver Spoons, If Thou Inwardly Art The Pitifulness Of All Men?

A Loving Heart Is The Beginning Of All Knowledge.

I Should Say Sincerity, A Deep, Great, Genuine Sincerity, Is The First Characteristic Of All Men In Any Way Heroic.

Wondrous Is The Strength Of Cheerfulness, And Its Power Of Endurance - The Cheerful Man Will Do More In The Same Time, Will Do It; Better, Will Preserve It Longer, Than The Sad Or Sullen.

The Actual Well Seen Is Ideal.

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

There Is Precious Instruction To Be Got By Finding We Were Wrong.

There Must Be A New World If There Is To Be Any World At All!... These Days Of Universal Death Must Be Days Of Universal New Birth, If The Ruin Is Not To Be Total And Final! It Is Time To Make The Dullest Man Consider; And Ask Himself, Whence He Came? Whither He Is Bound?

Roguery Is Thought By Some To Be Cunning And Laughable: It Is Neither; It Is Devilish.

When Pococke Inquired Of Grotius, Where The Proof Was Of That Story Of The Pigeon, Trained To Pick Peas From Mahomet's (muhammad's) Ear, And Pass For An Angel Dictating To Him? Grotius Answered That There Was No Proof!

Metaphysics Is The Attempt Of The Mind To Rise Above The Mind.

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

Self-contemplation Is Infallibly The Symptom Of Disease.

So Much Of Truth, Only Under An Ancient Obsolete Vesture, But The Spirit Of It Still True, Do I Find In The Paganism Of Old Nations. Nature Is Still Divine, The Revelation Of The Workings Of God; The Hero Is Still Worshipable: This, Under Poor Cramped Incipient Forms, Is What All Pagan Religions Have Struggled, As They Could, To Set Forth.

Wise Man Was He Who Counselled That Speculation Should Have Free Course, And Look Fearlessly Towards All The Thirty-two Points Of The Compass, Whithersoever And Howsoever It Listed.

The Builder Of This Universe Was Wise, He Plann'd All Souls, All Systems, Planets, Particles: The Plan He Shap'd All Worlds And Æons By, Was-heavens!-was Thy Small Nine-and-thirty Articles!

If There Be Not A Religious Element In The Relations Of Men, Such Relations Are Miserable And Doomed To Ruin.

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

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

A Background Of Wrath, Which Can Be Stirred Up To The Murderous Infernal Pitch, Does Lie In Every Man.

The Greatest Event For The World Is The Arrival Of A New And Wise Person.

History Is The Essence Of Innumerable Biographies.

A Sad Spectacle. If They Be Inhabited, What A Scope For Misery And Folly. If They Be Not Inhabited, What A Waste Of Space.

The Errors Of A Wise Man Are Literally More Instructive Than The Truths Of A Fool. The Wise Man Travels In Lofty, Far-seeing Regions; The Fool In Low-lying, High-fenced Lanes; Retracing The Footsteps Of The Former, To Discover Where He Diviated, Whole Provinces Of The Universe Are Laid Open To Us; In The Path Of The Latter, Granting Even That He Has Not Deviated At All, Little Is Laid Open To Us But Two Wheel-ruts And Two Hedges.

Every Human Being Has A Right To Hear What Other Wise Human Beings Have Spoken To Him. It Is One Of The Rights Of Men; A Very Cruel Injustice If You Deny It To A Man!

Money, In Truth, Can Do Much, But It Cannot Do All. We Must Know The Province Of It, And Confine It There, And Even Spurn It Back When It Wishes To Get Farther.

Laws, Written, If Not On Stone Tables, Yet On The Azure Of Infinitude, In The Inner Heart Of God's Creation, Certain As Life, Certain As Death, Are There, And Thou Shalt Not Disobey Them.

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

A Lie Should Be Trampled On And Extinguished Wherever Found. I Am For Fumigating The Atmosphere When I Suspect That Falsehood, Like Pestilence, Breathes Around Me.

Science Must Have Originated In The Feeling That Something Was Wrong.

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

With Respect To Duels, Indeed, I Have My Own Ideas. Few Things In This So Surprising World Strike Me With More Surprise. Two Little Visual Spectra Of Men, Hovering With Insecure Enough Cohesion In The Midst Of The Unfathomable, And To Dissolve Therein, At Any Rate, Very Soon, Make Pause At The Distance Of Twelve Paces Asunder; Whirl Around, And Simultaneously By The Cunningest Mechanism, Explode One Another Into Dissolution; And, Offhand, Become Air, And Non-extant--the Little Spitfires!

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.

The Vulgarity Of Inanimate Things Requires Time To Get Accustomed To; But Living, Breathing, Bustling, Plotting, Planning, Human Vulgarity Is A Species Of Moral Ipecacuanha, Enough To Destroy Any Comfort.

Learn To Be Good Readers, Which Is Perhaps A More Difficult Thing Than You Imagine. Learn To Be Discriminative In Your Reading; To Read Faithfully, And With Your Best Attention, All Kinds Of Things Which You Have A Real Interest In,--a Real, Not An Imaginary,--and Which You Find To Be Really Fit For What You Are Engaged In.

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

What An Enormous Magnifier Is Tradition! How A Thing Grows In The Human Memory And In The Human Imagination, When Love, Worship, And All That Lies In The Human Heart, Is There To Encourage It

The Age Of Miracles Is Forever Here.

Biography Is The Only True History.

Man Makes Circumstances, And Spiritually As Well As Economically, Is The Artificer Of His Own Fortune.

Without Oblivion, There Is No Remembrance Possible. When Both Oblivion And Memory Are Wise, When The General Soul Of Man Is Clear, Melodious, True, There May Come A Modern Iliad As Memorial Of The Past.

The Word Of Mohammad Is A Voice Direct From Nature's Own Heart - All Else Is Wind In Comparison.

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

Let A Man Try Faithfully, Manfully To Be Right; He Will Grow Daily More And More Right. It Is At Bottom The Condition On Which All Men Have To Cultivate Themselves.

Nothing Stops The Man Who Desires To Achieve. Every Obstacle Is Simply A Course To Develop His Achievement Muscle. It's A Strengthening Of His Powers Of Accomplishment.

Every Man Is My Superior In That I May Learn From Him.

The Sincere Alone Can Recognize Sincerity.

You Can Make Even A Parrot Into A Learned Political Economist - All He Must Learn Are The Two Words "supply" And "demand."

Give Us, O Give Us The Man Who Sings At His Work! Be His Occupation What It May, He Is Equal To Any Of Those Who Follow The Same Pursuit In Silent Sullenness. He Will Do More In The Same Time . . . He Will Do It Better . . . He Will Persevere Longer. One Is Scarcely Sensible To Fatigue While He Marches To Music. The Very Stars Are Said To Make Harmony As They Revolve In Their Spheres.

All Evil Is Like A Nightmare; The Instant You Stir Under It, The Evil Is Gone.

Close Thy Byron ; Open Thy Goethe .

In No Time Whatever Can Small Critics Entirely Eradicate Out Of Living Men's Hearts A Certain Altogether Peculiar Collar Reverence For Great Men--genuine Admiration, Loyalty, Adora-tion.

The Spiritual Is The Parent Of The Practical.

Painful For A Person Is Rebellious Independence, Only In Loving Companionship With His Associates Does A Person Feel Safe: Only In Reverently Bowing Down Before The Higher Does A Person Feel Exalted.

Unity, Agreement, Is Always Silent Or Soft-voiced; It Is Only Discord That Loudly Proclaims Itself.

Philosophy Dwells Aloft In The Temple Of Science, The Divinity Of Its Inmost Shrine; Her Dictates Descend Among Men, But She Herself Descends Not : Whoso Would Behold Her Must Climb With Long And Laborious Effort, Nay, Still Linger In The Forecourt, Till Manifold Trial Have Proved Him Worthy Of Admission Into The Interior Solemnities.

The Past Is Always Attractive Because It Is Drained Of Fear.

Reform Is Not Pleasant, But Grievous; No Person Can Reform Themselves Without Suffering And Hard Work, How Much Less A Nation.

The True University Of These Days Is A Collection Of Books.

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

A Man Ought To Inquire And Find Out What He Really And Truly Has An Appetite For; What Suits His Constitution; And That, Doctors Tell Him, Is The Very Thing He Ought To Have In General. And So With Books.

The Great Law Of Culture Is, Let Each Become All That He Was Created Capable Of Being; Expand, If Possible, To His Full Growth; Resisting All Impediments, Casting Off All Foreign, Especially All Noxious Adhesions, And Show Himself At Length In His Own Shape And Stature Be These What They May.

I Want To Meet My God Awake.

Our Very Walking Is An Incessant Falling; A Falling And A Catching Of Ourselves Before We Come Actually To The Pavement. It Is Emblematic Of All Things A Man Does.

Alas! While The Body Stands So Broad And Brawny, Must The Soul Lie Blinded, Dwarfed, Stupefied, Almost Annihilated? Alas! This Was, Too, A Breath Of God, Bestowed In Heaven, But On Earth Never To Be Unfolded!

A Dandy Is A Clothes-wearing Man--a Man Whose Trade, Office, And Existence Consist In The Wearing Of Clothes. Every Faculty Of His Soul, Spirit, Person And Purse Is Heroically Consecrated To This One Object--the Wearing Of Clothes, Wisely And Well; So That, As Others Dress To Live, He Lives To Dress.

Manhood Begins When We Have In Any Way Made Truce With Necessity; Begins Even When We Have Surrendered To Necessity, As The Most Part Only Do; But Begins Joyfully And Hopefully Only When We Have Reconciled Ourselves To Necessity; And Thus, In Reality, Triumphed Over It, And Felt That In Necessity We Are Free.

That A Parliament, Especially A Parliament With Newspaper Reporters Firmly Established In It, Is An Entity Which By Its Very Nature Cannot Do Work, But Can Do Talk Only.

A Man Lives By Believing Something.

Music Is Well Said To Be The Speech Of Angels.

Nay, In Every Epoch Of The World, The Great Event, Parent Of All Others, Is It Not The Arrival Of A Thinker In The World?

The Barrenest Of All Mortals Is The Sentimentalist.

Dishonesty Is The Raw Material Not Of Quacks Only, But Also In Great Part Dupes.

Happy Season Of Virtuous Youth, When Shame Is Still An Impassable Barrier, And The Sacred Air-cities Of Hope Have Not Shrunk Into The Mean Clay Hamlets Of Reality; And Man, By His Nature, Is Yet Infinite And Free.

Macaulay Is Well For Awhile, But One Wouldn't Live Under Niagara.

A Fair Day's Wage For A Fair Day's Work": It Is As Just A Demand As Governed Men Ever Made Of Governing. It Is The Everlasting Right Of Man.

Force, Force, Everywhere Force; We Ourselves A Mysterious Force In The Centre Of That. "there Is Not A Leaf Rotting On The Highway But Has Force In It: How Else Could It Rot?" [as Used In His Time, By The Word Force, Carlyle Means Energy.]

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

A Frightful Dialect For The Stupid, The Pedant And Dullard Sort.

A Battle Is A Terrible Conjugation Of The Verb To Kill: I Kill, Thou Killest, He Kills, We Kill, They Kill, All Kill.

All Reform Except A Moral One Will Prove Unavailing.

Without Kindness There Can Be No True Joy.

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.

Quackery Gives Birth To Nothing; Gives Death To All Things.

There Is Often More Spiritual Force In A Proverb Than In Whole Philosophical Systems.

The Dust Of Controversy Is Merely The Falsehood Flying Off.

Let Time And Chance Combine, Combine! Let Time And Chance Combine! The Fairest Love From Heaven Above, That Love Of Yours Was Mine, My Dear! That Love Of Yours Was Mine.

Adversity Is The Diamond Dust Heaven Polishes Its Jewels With.

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.

The Healthy Know Not Of Their Health, But Only The Sick: This Is The Physician's Aphorism, And Applicable In A Far Wider Sense Than He Gives It.

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

Men Are To Be Guided Only By Their Self-interests. Good Government Is A Good Balancing Of These; And, Except A Keen Eye And Appetite For Self-interest, Requires No Virtue In Any Quarter. To Both Parties It Is Emphatically A Machine: To The Discontented, A Taxing-machine; To The Contented, A Machine For Securing Property. Its Duties And Its Faults Are Not Those Of A Father, But Of An Active Parish-constable.

What This Country Needs Is A Man Who Knows God Other Than By Heresay.

Genuine Work Alone, What Thou Workest Faithfully, That Is Eternal, As The Almighty Founder And World-builder Himself.

Man, It Is Not Thy Works, Which Are Mortal, Infinitely Little, And The Greatest No Greater Than The Least, But Only The Spirit Thou Workest In, That Can Have Worth Or Continuance.

Perfect Ignorance Is Quiet, Perfect Knowledge Is Quiet; Not So The Transition From The Former To The Latter.

Every New Opinion, At Its Starting, Is Precisely In A Minority Of One.

Show Me The Man You Honor, And I Will Know What Kind Of Man You Are.

Little Other Than A Red Tape Talking-machine, And Unhappy Bag Of Parliamentary Eloquence.

Stop A Moment, Cease Your Work, And Look Around You.

One Monster There Is In The World, The Idle Man.

Wealth Has More And More Increased, And At The Same Time Gathered Itself More And More Into Masses, Strangely Altering The Old Relations, And Increasing The Distance Between The Rich And The Poor.

Even In The Meanest Sorts Of Labor, The Whole Soul Of A Man Is Composed Into A Kind Of Real Harmony The Instant He Sets Himself To Work.

In Our Wide World There Is But One Altogether Fatal Personage, The Dunce,--he That Speaks Irrationally, That Sees Not, And Yet Thinks He Sees.

In Every Man's Writings, The Character Of The Writer Must Lie Recorded.

It Is Not Honest Inquiry That Makes Anarchy; But It Is Error, Insincerity, Half Belief And Untruth That Make It.

No Man Sees Far, Most See No Farther Than Their Noses.

Nature Admits No Lie.

The Weakest Living Creature, By Concentrating His Powers On A Single Object, Can Accomplish Something. The Strongest, By Dispensing His Over Many, May Fail To Accomplish Anything. The Drop, By Continually Falling, Bores Its Passage Through The Hardest Rock. The Hasty Torrent Rushes Over It With Hideous Uproar, And Leaves No Trace Behind.

After All Manner Of Professors Have Done Their Best For Us, The Place We Are To Get Knowledge Is In Books.

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

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

If You Do Not Wish A Man To Do A Thing, You Had Better Get Him To Talk About It; For The More Men Talk, The More Likely They Are To Do Nothing Else.

How Were Friendship Possible? In Mutual Devotedness To The Good And True; Otherwise Impossible, Except As Armed Neutrality Or Hollow Commercial League. A Man, Be The Heavens Ever Praised, Is Sufficient For Himself; Yet Were Ten Men, United In Love, Capable Of Being And Of Doing What Ten Thousand Singly Would Fail In. Infinite Is The Help Man Can Yield To Man.

He Who First Shortened The Labor Of Copyists By Device Of Movable Types Was Disbanding Hired Armies And Cashiering Most Kings And Senates, And Creating A Whole New Democratic World: He Had Invented The Art Of Printing.

There Is A Great Discovery Still To Be Made In Literature, That Of Paying Literary Men By The Quantity They Do Not Write.

Virtue Is Like Health: The Harmony Of The Whole Man.

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 Men Are The Inspired Texts Of That Divine Book Of Revelations, Whereof A Chapter Is Completed From Epoch To Epoch, And By Some Named History.

History Is The Distillation Of Rumour.

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

Not What You Possess But What You Do With What You Have, Determines Your True Worth.

Overconsumption

Do The Duty Which Lies Nearest To You, The Second Duty Will Then Become Clearer.

Tell A Person They Are Brave And You Help Them Become So.

Know What Thou Canst Work At, And Work At It Like A Hercules.

All Deep Things Are Song. It Seems Somehow The Very Central Essence Of Us, Song; As If All The Rest Were But Wrappages And Hulls!

What Is Nature? Art Thou Not The Living Government Of God? O Heaven, Is It In Very Deed He Then That Ever Speaks Through Thee, That Lives And Loves In Thee, That Lives And Loves In Me?

Trending Author

Gregory Bateson

Fernando Flores

Category