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There Is A Majesty And Mystery In Nature, Take Her As You Will. The Essence Of Poetry Comes Breathing To A Mind That Feels From Every Province Of Her Empire.

-Thomas Carlyle

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There Is A Majesty

Thomas Carlyle

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There Is A Majesty And Mystery In Nature, Take Her As You Will. The Essence Of Poetry Comes Breathing To A Mind That Feels From Every Province Of Her Empire.

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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 Dust Of Controversy Is Merely The Falsehood Flying Off.

Dinners Are Defined As 'the Ultimate Act Of Communion;' Men That Can Have Communion In Nothing Else, Can Sympathetically Eat Together, Can Still Rise Into Some Glow Of Brotherhood Over Food And Wine.

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.

Adversity Is The Diamond Dust Heaven Polishes Its Jewels With.

Debt Is A Bottomless Sea.

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

In The Long-run Every Government Is The Exact Symbol Of Its People, With Their Wisdom And Unwisdom; We Have To Say, Like People Like Government.

There Are Remedies For All Things But Death.

He That Has Done Nothing Has Known Nothing.

A Collection Of Books Is The Best Of All Universities.

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?

Let One Who Wants To Move And Convince Others, First Be Convinced And Moved Themselves. If A Person Speaks With Genuine Earnestness The Thoughts, The Emotion And The Actual Condition Of Their Own Heart, Others Will Listen Because We All Are Knit Together By The Tie Of Sympathy.

Fame, We May Understand, Is No Sure Test Of Merit, But Only A Probability Of Such: It Is An Accident, Not A Property, Of A Man; Like Light, It Can Give Little Or Nothing, But At Most May Show What Is Given.

Courtesy Is The Due Of Man To Man; Not Of Suit-of-clothes To Suit-of-clothes.

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

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

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.

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

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

To Know, To Get Into The Truth Of Anything, Is Ever A Mystic Art, Of Which The Best Logic's Can But Babble On The Surface.

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.

It Is Great, And There Is No Other Greatness-to Make One Nook Of God's Creation More Fruitful, Better, More Worthy Of God; To Make Some Human Heart A Little Wiser, Manlier, Happier-more Blessed.

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.

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.

"love Is Not Altogether A Delirium," Says He Elsewhere; "yet Has It Many Points In Common Therewith."

Delirium Tremens

Rest Is A Fine Medicine. Let Your Stomachs Rest, Ye Dyspeptics; Let Your Brain Rest, You Wearied And Worried People Of Business; Let Your Limbs Rest, Ye Children Of Toil!

To Us Also, Through Every Star, Through Every Blade Of Grass, Is Not God Made Visible If We Will Open Our Minds And Our Eyes.

In Private Life I Never Knew Anyone Interfere With Other People's Disputes But He Heartily Repented Of It.

Not Brute Force But Only Persuasion And Faith Are The Kings Of This World.

O Thou Who Art Able To Write A Book Which Once In The Two Centuries Or Oftener There Is A Man Gifted To Do, Envy Not Him Whom They Name City-builder, And Inexpressibly Pity Him Whom They Name Conqueror Or City-burner.

A Strong Mind Always Hopes, And Has Always Cause To Hope.

The Civil Authority, Or That Part Of It Which Remained Faithful To Their Trust And True To The Ends Of The Covenant, Did, In Answer To Their Consciences, Turn Out A Tyrant, In A Way Which The Christians In Aftertimes Will Mention With Honor, And All Tyrants In The World Look At With Fear.

Reality, If Rightly Interpreted, Is Grander Than Fiction.

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.

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

Trust Not The Heart Of That Man For Whom Old Clothes Are Not Venerable.

Who Is It That Loves Me And Will Love Me Forever With An Affection Which No Chance, No Misery, No Crime Of Mine Can Do Away? It Is You, My Mother.

Histories Are As Perfect As The Historian Is Wise, And Is Gifted With An Eye And A Soul.

Thirty Millions, Mostly Fools.

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.

Evil, Once Manfully Fronted, Ceases To Be Evil; There Is Generous Battle-hope In Place Of Dead, Passive Misery; The Evil Itself Has Become A Kind Of Good.

The Tragedy Of Life Is Not So Much What Men Suffer, But Rather What They Miss.

Foolish Men Imagine That Because Judgment For An Evil Thing Is Delayed, There Is No Justice; But Only Accident Here Below. Judgment For An Evil Thing Is Many Times Delayed Some Day Or Two, Some Century Or Two, But It Is Sure As Life, It Is Sure As Death.

It Is Part Of My Creed That The Only Poetry Is History, Could We Tell It Right.

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

The Christian Must Be Consumed By The Conviction Of The Infinite Beauty Of Holiness And The Infinite Damnability Of Sin.

Infinite Beauty

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.

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

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

He That Will Not Work According To His Faculty, Let Him Perish According To His Necessity: There Is No Law Juster Than That.

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

Weak Eyes Are Fondest Of Glittering Objects.

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

We Are Not Altogether Here To Tolerate. We Are Here To Resist, To Control And Vanquish Withal.

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

This We Take It Is The Grand Characteristic Of Our Age. By Our Skill In Mechanism, It Has Come To Pass, That In The Management Ofexternal Things We Excel All Other Ages; While In Whatever Respects The Pure Moral Nature, In True Dignity Of Soul And Character, We Are Perhaps Inferior To Most Civilised Ages.

The King Is The Man Who Can.

In Books Lies The Soul Fo The Whole Past Time.

The Secret Of Business Is To Know Something That Nobody Else Knows. The Greatest Of Faults, I Should Say Is To Be Conscious Of None.

They Have Their Belief, These Poor Tibet People, That Providence Sends Down Always An Incarnation Of Himself Into Every Generation. At Bottom Some Belief In A Kind Of Pope! At Bottom Still Better, A Belief That There Is A Greatest Man; That He Is Discoverable; That, Once Discovered, We Ought To Treat Him With An Obedience Which Knows No Bounds. This Is The Truth Of Grand Lamaism; The "discoverability" Is The Only Error Here.

If I Had My Way, The World Would Hear A Pretty Stern Command - Exit Christ.

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

Music Is Well Said To Be The Speech Of Angels; In Fact, Nothing Among The Utterances Allowed To Man Is Felt To Be So Divine. It Brings Us Near To The Infinite.

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.

This Is The Eternal Law Of Nature For A Man, My Beneficent Exeter-hall Friends; This, That He Shall Be Permitted, Encouraged, And If Need Be, Compelled To Do What Work The Maker Of Him Has Intended By The Making Of Him For This World! Not That He Should Eat Pumpkin With Never Such Felicity In The West India Islands Is, Or Can Be, The Blessedness Of Our Black Friend; But That He Should Do Useful Work There, According As The Gifts Have Been Bestowed On Him For That.

History Is Philosophy Teaching By Experience.

Nakedness, Hunger, Distress Of All Kinds, Death Itself Have Been Cheerfully Suffered, When The Heart Was Right. It Is The Feeling Of Injustice That Is Insupportable To All Men.

Silence Is As Deep As Eternity, Speech A Shallow As Time.

Cherish What Is Dearest While You Have It Near You, And Wait Not Till It Is Far Away. Blind And Deaf That We Are; Oh, Think, If Thou Yet Love Anybody Living, Wait Not Till Death Sweep Down The Paltry Little Dust Clouds And Dissonances Of The Moment, And All Be Made At Last So Mournfully Clear And Beautiful, When It Is Too Late.

The Beginning Of All Wisdom Is To Look Fixedly On Clothes, Or Even With Armed Eyesight, Till They Become Transparent.

The Block Of Granite Which Was An Obstacle In The Pathway Of The Weak, Became A Stepping-stone In The Pathway Of The Strong.

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.

All Men, If They Work Not As In The Great Taskmaster's Eye, Will Work Wrong, And Work Unhappily For Themselves And For You.

O Thou Who Art Able To Write A Book, Which Once In The Two Centuries Or Oftener There Is A Man Gifted To Do, Envy Not Him Whom They Name City-builder, And Inexpressibly Pity Him Whom They Name Conqueror Or City-burner! Thou Too Art A Conqueror And Victor; But Of The True Sort, Namely Over The Devil: Thou Too Hast Built What Will Outlast All Marble And Metal, And Be A Wonder-bringing City Of The Mind, A Temple And Seminary And Prophetic Mount, Whereto All Kindreds Of The Earth Will Pilgrim.

The Choking, Sweltering, Deadly, And Killing Rule Of No Rule; The Consecration Of Cupidity And Braying Of Folly, And Dim Stupidity And Baseness, In Most Of The Affairs Of Men. Slopshirts Attainable Three-halfpence Cheaper By The Ruin Of Living Bodies And Immortal Souls.

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

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

It Is Not To Taste Sweet Things; But To Do Noble And True Things, And Vindicate Himself Under God's Heaven As A God-made Man, That The Poorest Son Of Adam Dimly Longs. Show Him The Way Of Doing That, The Dullest Day-drudge Kindles Into A Hero. 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. Kindle The Inner Genial Life Of Him, You Have A Flame That Burns Up All Lower Considerations.

Great Is Journalism. Is Not Every Able Editor A Ruler Of The World, Being The Persuader Of It?

The Deepest Depth Of Vulgarism Is That Of Setting Up Money As The Ark Of The Covenant.

Time Is The Silent, Never-resting Thing ... Rolling, Rushing On, Swift, Silent, Like An All-embracing Oceantide, On Which We And All The Universe Swim.

No Person Was Every Rightly Understood Until They Had Been First Regarded With A Certain Feeling, Not Of Tolerance, But Of Sympathy.

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

Overconsumption

The Genuine Essence Of Truth Never Dies.

Experience Is The Best Of School Masters, Only The School Fees Are Heavy.

Once The Mind Has Been Expanded By A Big Idea, It Will Never Go Back To Its Original State.

All Work Is As Seed Sown; It Grows And Spreads, And Sows Itself Anew.

Misery Which, Through Long Ages, Had No Spokesman, No Helper, Will Now Be Its Own Helper And Speak For Itself.

Speech Is Of Time, Silence Is Of Eternity.

Of All The Paths A Man Could Strike Into, There Is, At Any Given Moment, A Best Path .. A Thing Which, Here And Now, It Were Of All Things Wisest For Him To Do .. To Find This Path, And Walk In It, Is The One Thing Needful For Him.

Rare Benevolence, The Minister Of God.

Reform, Like Charity, Must Begin At Home.

When We Can Drain The Ocean Into Mill-ponds, And Bottle Up The Force Of Gravity, To Be Sold By Retail, In Gas Jars; Then May We Hope To Comprehend The Infinitudes Of Man's Soul Under Formulas Of Profit And Loss; And Rule Over This Too, As Over A Patent Engine, By Checks, And Valves, And Balances.

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.

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.

Culture Is The Process By Which A Person Becomes All That They Were Created Capable Of Being.

Such Is The World. Understand It, Despise It, Love It; Cheerfully Hold On Thy Way Through It, With Thy Eye On Highest Loadstars!

At Worst, Is Not This An Unjust World, Full Of Nothing But Beasts Of Prey, Four-footed Or Two-footed?

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.

Terror Itself, When Once Grown Transcendental, Becomes A Kind Of Courage; As Frost Sufficiently Intense, According To The Poet Milton, Will Burn.

With Union Grounded On Falsehood And Ordering Us To Speak And Act Lies, We Will Not Have Anything To Do. Peace? A Brutal Lethargy Is Peaceable; The Noisome Is Peaceable. We Hope For A Living Peace, Not A Dead One!

The Crash Of The Whole Solar And Stellar Systems Could Only Kill You Once.

Does Not Every True Man Feel That He Is Himself Made Higher By Doing Reverence To What Is Really Above Him?

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

We Are To Remember What An Umpire Nature Is; What A Greatness, Composure Of Depth And Tolerance There Is In Her. You Take Wheat To Cast Into The Earth's Bosom; Your Wheat May Be Mixed With Chaff, Chopped Straw, Barn-sweepings, Dust And All Imaginable Rubbish; No Matter: You Cast It Into The Kind Just Earth; She Grows The Wheat, - The Whole Rubbish She Silently Absorbs, Shrouds It In, Says Nothing Of The Rubbish.

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

To Me The Universe Was All Void Of Life, Of Purpose, Of Volition, Even Of Hostility; It Was One Huge, Dead, Immeasurable Steam-engine, Rolling On, In Its Dead Indifference, To Grind Me Limb From Limb. Oh Vast Gloomy, Solitary Golgotha, And Mill Of Death! Why Was The Living Banished Thither Companionless, Conscious? Why, If There Is No Devil; Nay, Unless The Devil Is Your God?

I Came Hither [craigenputtoch] Solely With The Design To Simplify My Way Of Life And To Secure The Independence Through Which I Could Be Enabled To Remain True To Myself.

The Actual Well Seen Is Ideal.

A Man Must Indeed Be A Hero To Appear Such In The Eyes Of His Valet.

Make Yourself An Honest Man, And Then You May Be Sure There Is One Less Rascal In The World.

Is Not Cant The Materia Prima Of The Devil, From Which All Falsehoods, Imbecilities, Abominations, Body Themselves, From Which No True Thing Can Come? For Cant Is Itself The Properly A Double-distilled Lie, The Second Power Of A Lie.

Acorns Are Planted Silently By Some Unnoticed Breeze.

The Situation That Has Not Its Duty, Its Ideal, Was Never Yet Occupied By Man. Yes, Here, In This Poor, Miserable, Hampered, Despicable Actual, Wherein Thou Even Now Standest, Here Or Nowhere Is Thy Ideal; Work It Out Therefrom, And, Working, Believe, Live, Be Free. Fool! The Ideal Is In Thyself.

Statistics Is A Science Which Ought To Be Honourable, The Basis Of Many Most Important Sciences; But It Is Not To Be Carried On By Steam, This Science, Any More Than Others Are; A Wise Head Is Requisite For Carrying It On.

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

There Is In Man A Higher Than Love Of Happiness; He Can Do Without Happiness, And Instead Thereof Find Blessedness.

Faith Is Loyalty To Some Inspired Teacher, Some Spiritual Hero.

Wonder Is The Basis Of Worship.

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

Everywhere In Life, The True Question Is Not What We Gain, But What We Do.

The Authentic Insight And Experience Of Any Human Soul, Were It But Insight And Experience In Hewing Of Wood And Drawing Of Water, Is Real Knowledge, A Real Possession And Acquirement.

We Observe With Confidence That The Truly Strong Mind, View It As Intellect Or Morality, Or Under Any Other Aspect, Is Nowise The Mind Acquainted With Its Strength; That Here The Sign Of Health Is Unconsciousness.

Properly Speaking, All True Work Is Religion.

Society Is Founded On Hero-worship.

A Man With A Half Volition Goes Backwards And Forwards, And Makes No Way On The Smoothest Road; A Man With A Whole Volition Advances On The Roughest, And Will Reach His Purpose, If There Be Even A Little Worthiness In It. The Man Without A Purpose Is Like A Ship Without A Rudder - A Waif, A Nothing, A No Man. Have A Purpose In Life And Having It, Throw Such Strength Of Mind And Muscle Into Your Work As God Has Given You.

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

Talk That Does Not End In Any Kind Of Action Is Better Suppressed Altogether.

May Blessings Be Upon The Head Of Cadmus, The Phoenicians, Or Whoever It Was That Invented Books.

No Mortal Has A Right To Wag His Tongue, Much Less To Wag His Pen, Without Saying Something.

If A Man Was Great While Living, He Becomes Tenfold Greater When Dead.

Stern Accuracy In Inquiring, Bold Imagination In Describing, These Are The Cogs On Which History Soars Or Flutters And Wobbles.

Before Philosophy Can Teach By Experience, The Philosophy Has To Be In Readiness, The Experience Must Be Gathered And Intelligibly Recorded.

That Monstrous Tuberosity Of Civilised Life, The Capital Of England.

Variety Is The Condition Of Harmony.

Every Man Has A Coward And Hero In His Soul.

Coining "dismal Science" As A Nickname For Political Economy

The Nobleness Of Silence. The Highest Melody Dwells Only In Silence,--the Sphere Melody, The Melody Of Health.

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.

In Every Object There Is Inexhaustible Meaning.

It Is Not A Lucky Word, This Name Impossible; No Good Comes Of Those Who Have It So Often In Their Mouths.

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

Persons, With Big Wigs Many Of Them And Austere Aspect, Whom I Take To Be Professors Of The Dismal Science… Coining “dismal Science” As A Nickname For Political Economy

Laughter Means Sympathy.

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.

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

Hardened Round Us, Encasing Wholly Every Notion We Form Is A Wrapping Of Traditions, Hearsay's, And Mere Words.

No Ghost Was Every Seen By Two Pair Of Eyes.

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

Speech Is Human, Silence Is Divine, Yet Also Brutish And Dead: Therefore We Must Learn Both Arts.

True Humor Springs Not More From The Head Than From The Heart. It Is Not Contempt; Its Essence Is Love. It Issues Not In Laughter, But In Still Smiles, Which Lie Far Deeper.

Hunger Whets Everything, Especially Suspicion And Indignation.

A Greater Number Of God's Creatures Believe In Mahomet's Word At This Hour Than In Any Other Word Whatever. Are We To Suppose That It Was A Miserable Piece Of Spiritual Legerdemain, This Which So Many Creatures Of The Almighty Have Lived By And Died By?

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

Battles, In These Ages, Are Transacted By Mechanism; With The Slightest Possible Development Of Human Individuality Or Spontaneity; Men Now Even Die, And Kill One Another, In An Artificial Manner.

Laughter Is One Of The Very Privileges Of Reason, Being Confined To The Human Species.

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

It Is The Heart Always That Sees, Before The Head Can See.

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.

A True Delineation Of The Smallest Man Is Capable Of Interesting The Greatest Man.

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

A Force As Of Madness In The Hands Of Reason Has Done All That Was Ever Done In The World.

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

Why Multiply Instances? It Is Written, The Heavens And The Earth Shall Fade Away Like A Vesture; Which Indeed They Are: The Time-vesture Of The Eternal. Whatsoever Sensibly Exists, Whatsoever Represents Spirit To Spirit, Is Properly A Clothing, A Suit Of Raiment, Put On For A Season, And To Be Laid Off. Thus In This One Pregnant Subject Of Clothes, Rightly Understood, Is Included All That Men Have Thought, Dreamed, Done, And Been: The Whole External Universe And What It Holds Is But Clothing; And The Essence Of All Science Lies In The Philosophy Of Clothes.

No Man At Bottom Means Injustice; It Is Always For Some Obscure Distorted Image Of A Right That He Contends: An Obscure Image Diffracted, Exaggerated, In The Wonderfulest Way By Natural Dimness And Selfishness; Getting Tenfold More Diffracted By Exasperation Of Contest, Till At Length It Become All But Irrecognis-able.

Poetry, Therefore, We Will Call Musical Thought.

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

Thought Will Not Work Except In Silence.

Our Works Are The Mirror Wherein The Spirit First Sees Its Natural Lineaments. Hence, Too, The Folly Of That Impossible Precept, Know Theyself; Till It Be Translated Into This Partially Possible One, Know What Thou Canst Work At.

To The Vulgar Eye, Few Things Are Wonderful That Are Not Distant

The Coldest Word Was Once A Glowing New Metaphor.

Speech Is Too Often Not The Art Of Concealing Thought, But Of Quite Stifling And Suspending Thought, So That There Is None To Conceal.

I Know So Little About Any History. How Little Do I Know Even About The History Of Myself.

Men Do Less Than They Ought, Unless They Do All They Can.

The Fine Arts Once Divorcing Themselves From Truth Are Quite Certain To Fall Mad, If They Do Not Die.

I've Got A Great Ambition To Die Of Exhaustion Rather Than Boredom.

Without Kindness There Can Be No True Joy.

Scarcely Two Hundred Years Back Can Fame Recollect Articulately At All; And There She But Maunders And Mumbles.

A Fourth Estate, Of Able Editors, Springs Up.

Let Him Who Gropes Painfully In Darkness Or Uncertain Light, And Prays Vehemently That The Dawn May Ripen Into Day, Lay This Precept Well To Heart: "do The Duty Which Lies Nearest To Thee," Which Thou Know To Be A Duty! Thy Second Duty Will Already Have Become Clearer.

Superstition! That Horrid Incubus Which Dwelt In Darkness, Shunning The Light, With All Its Racks, And Poison Chalices, And Foul Sleeping Draughts, Is Passing Away Without Return. Religion Cannot Pass Away. The Burning Of A Little Straw May Hide The Stars Of The Sky; But The Stars Are There And Will Reappear.

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

There Is A Majesty And Mystery In Nature, Take Her As You Will. The Essence Of Poetry Comes Breathing To A Mind That Feels From Every Province Of Her Empire.

Clever Men Are Good, But They Are Not The Best.

Not One False Man But Doth Uncountable Evil.

The Philosopher Is He To Whom The Highest Has Descended, And The Lowest Has Mounted Up; Who Is The Equal And Kindly Brother Of All.

All History . . . Is An Inarticulate Bible.

Long Stormy Spring-time, Wet Contentious April, Winter Chilling The Lap Of Very May; But At Length The Season Of Summer Does Come.

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

To The Mean Eye All Things Are Trivial, As Certainly As To The Jaundiced They Are Yellow.

The Whole Past Is The Procession Of The Present.

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.

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

Originality Is A Thing We Constantly Clamour For, And Constantly Quarrel With.

Funny Basketball

All Work Of Man Is As The Swimmer's: A Vast Ocean Threatens To Devour Him; If He Front It Not Bravely, It Will Keep Its Word.

The First Duty Of Man Is To Conquer Fear; He Must Get Rid Of It, He Cannot Act Till Then.

To Say That We Have A Clear Conscience Is To Utter A Solecism; Had We Never Sinned We Should Have Had No Conscience. Were Defeat Unknown, Neither Would Victory Be Celebrated By Songs Of Triumph.

All Comes Out Even At The End Of The Day.

The End Of The Day

The Old Cathedrals Are Good, But The Great Blue Dome That Hangs Over Everything Is Better.

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