Background Image

...

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?

-Thomas Carlyle

...

Please Wait....
Translating....

There Must Be A

Thomas Carlyle

...

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?

Views: 57477

Topic

More From Thomas Carlyle

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 Merit Of Originality Is Not Novelty; It Is Sincerity.

Skepticism, As I Said, Is Not Intellectual Only; It Is Moral Also; A Chronic Atrophy And Disease Of The Whole Soul. A Man Lives By Believing Something; Not By Debating And Arguing About Many Things. A Sad Case For Him When All That He Can Manage To Believe Is Something He Can Button In His Pocket, And With One Or The Other Organ Eat And Digest! Lower Than That He Will Not Get.

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

The Difference Between Socrates And Jesus? The Great Conscious And The Immeasurably Great Unconscious.

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.

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

Isolation Is The Sum Total Of Wretchedness To A Man.

The Lies (western Slander) Which Well-meaning Zeal Has Heaped Round This Man (muhammad) Are Disgraceful To Ourselves Only.

A Man Lives By Believing Something.

Love Is Ever The Beginning Of Knowledge As Fire Is Of Light.

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

The True Sovereign Of The World, Who Moulds The World Like Soft Wax, According To His Pleasure, Is He Who Lovingly Sees Into The World.

In A Certain Sense All Men Are Historians.

No Man Who Has Once Heartily And Wholly Laughed Can Be Altogether Irreclaimably Bad.

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!

There Is No Life Of A Man, Faithfully Recorded, But Is A Heroic Poem Of Its Sort, Rhymed Or Unrhymed.

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.

I Grow Daily To Honour Facts More And More, And Theory Less And Less. A Fact, It Seems To Me, Is A Great Thing; A Sentence Printed, If Not By God, Then At Least By The Devil.

So Here Hath Been Dawning Another Blue Day; Think, Wilt Thou Let It Slip Useless Away? Out Of Eternity This New Day Is Born, Into Eternity At Night Will Return.

As There Is No Danger Of Our Becoming, Any Of Us, Mahometans (i.e. Muslim), I Mean To Say All The Good Of Him I Justly Can.

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

Earnestness Alone Makes Life Eternity.

Thought, True Labor Of Any Kind, Highest Virtue Itself, Is It Not The Daughter Of Pain?

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

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

It Is A Fact Which Escapes No One, That, Generally Speaking, Whoso Is Acquainted With His Worth Has But A Little Stock To Cultivate Acquaintance With.

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

Beautiful It Is, And A Gleam From The Same Eternal Pole-star Visible Amid The Destinies Of Men, That All Talent, All Intellect, Is In The First Plane Moral. What A World Were This Otherwise!

Genius Is An Infinite Capacity For Taking Pains.

Happy The People Whose Annals Are Blank In History Books!

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

God Almighty Never Created A Man Half As Wise As He Looks.

All True Work Is Sacred. In All True Work, Were It But True Hand Work, There Is Something Of Divineness. Labor, Wide As The Earth, Has Its Summit In Heaven.

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.

Democracy Will Prevail When Men Believe The Vote Of Judas As Good As That Of Jesus Christ.

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

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

The Purpose Of Man Is In Action Not Thought.

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.

A Judicious Man Looks At Statistics, Not To "get Knowledge, But To Save Himself From Having Ignorance Foisted 'on Him".

My Whinstone House My Castle Is, I Have My Own Four Walls.

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

The Highest Ensign That Men Ever Met And Embraced Under, The Cross Itself, Had No Meaning Save An Accidental Extrinsic One.

Friendship, In The Old Heroic Sense Of That Term, No Longer Exists. It Is In Reality No Longer Expected Or Recognized As A Virtue Among Men.

Lost Friendship

Lives The Man That Can Figure A Naked Duke Of Windlestraw Addressing A Naked House Of Lords?

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

The Eye Of The Intellect "sees In All Objects What It Brought With It The Means Of Seeing."

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.

What We Become Depends On What We Read After All Of The Professors Have Finished With Us. The Greatest University Of All Is A Collection Of Books.

The Universe Is But One Vast Symbol Of God.

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

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!

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

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.

That There Should One Man Die Ignorant Who Had Capacity For Knowledge, This I Call A Tragedy.

France Was Long A Despotism Tempered By Epigrams.

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.

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

The Scandalous Bronze-lacquer Age Of Hungry Animalisms, Spiritual Impotences, And Mendacities, Will Have To Run Its Course, Till The Pit Follow It.

Experience Of Actual Fact Either Teaches Fools Or Abolishes Them.

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

There Is But One Temple In This Universe: The Body. We Speak To God Whenever We Lay Our Hands Upon It.

A Man Willing To Work, And Unable To Find Work, Is Perhaps The Saddest Sight That Fortune's Inequality Exhibits Under This Sun.

A Man Cannot Make A Pair Of Shoes Rightly Unless He Do It In A Devout Manner.

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.

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

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.

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

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.

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

He Who Takes Not Counsel Of The Unseen And Silent, From Him Will Never Come Real Visibility And Speech.

Old Age Is Not A Matter For Sorrow. It Is Matter For Thanks If We Have Left Our Work Done Behind Us.

Heroes, It Would Seem, Exist Always And A Certain Worship Of Them.

To Each Is Given A Certain Inward Talent, A Certain Outward Environment Or Fortune; To Each By Wisest Combination Of These Two, A Certain Maximum Capacity.

Just In Ratio As Knowledge Increases, Faith Diminishes.

The Condition Of The Most Passionate Enthusiast Is To Be Preferred Over The Individual Who, Because Of The Fear Of Making A Mistake, Won't In The End Affirm Or Deny Anything

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.

No Man Is Born Without Ambitious Worldly Desires.

No Age Seemed The Age Of Romance To Itself.

Time Has Only A Relative Existence.

All Sorts Of Heroes Are Intrinsically Of The Same Material; That Given A Great Soul, Open To The Divine Significance Of Life, Then There Is Given A Man Fit To Speak Of This, To Sing Of This, To Fight And Work For This, In A Great, Victorious, Enduring Manner; There Is Given A Hero, -- The Outward Shape Of Whom Will Depend On The Time And The Environment He Finds Himself In.

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

The Steam-engine I Call Fire-demon And Great; But It Is Nothing To The Invention Of Fire.

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.

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

There Is So Much Data Available To Us, But Most Data Won't Help Us Succeed.

The Deadliest Sin Were The Consciousness Of No Sin

Secrecy Is The Element Of All Goodness; Even Virtue, Even Beauty Is Mysterious.

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

There Is A Perennial Nobleness, And Even Sacredness, In Work. Were He Never So Benighted, Forgetful Of His High Calling, There Is Always Hope In A Man That Actually And Earnestly Works: In Idleness Alone There Is Perpetual Despair.

My Books Are Friends That Never Fail Me.

The Devil Has His Elect.

History: A Distillation Of Rumor.

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

I Do Not Believe In The Collective Wisdom Of Individual Ignorance.

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

And Man's Little Life Has Duties That Are Great, That Are Alone Great, And Go Up To Heaven And Down To Hell.

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.

Conviction Is Worthless Unless It Is Converted Into Conduct.

Not Our Logical, Mensurative Faculty, But Our Imaginative One Is King Over Us; I Might Say, Priest And Prophet To Lead Us Heavenward; Or Magician And Wizard To Lead Us Hellward.

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

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.

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

All Comes Out Even At The End Of The Day.

The End Of The Day

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

Whatsoever Thy Hand Findeth To Do, Do That With All Thy Might And Leave The Issues Calmly To God.

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.

Violence Does Even Justice Unjustly.

Well Might The Ancients Make Silence A God; For It Is The Element Of All Godhood, Infinitude, Or Transcendental Greatness,--at Once The Source And The Ocean Wherein All Such Begins And Ends.

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

The True Church Of England, At This Moment, Lies In The Editors Of The Newspapers.

Man Is A Tool-using Animal. Without Tools He Is Nothing, With Tools He Is All.

History Is A Great Dust Heap.

In This World There Is One Godlike Thing, The Essence Of All That Was Or Ever Will Be Of Godlike In This World: The Veneration Done To Human Worth By The Hearts Of Men.

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

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

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

Silence Is The Element In Which Great Things Fashion Themselves Together; That At Length They May Emerge, Full-formed And Majestic, Into The Daylight Of Life, Which They Are Thenceforth To Rule.

The Greatest Of All Heroes Is One--whom We Do Not Name Here! Let Sacred Silence Meditate That Sacred Matter; You Will Find It The Ultimate Perfection Of A Principle Extant Throughout Man's Whole History On Earth.

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.

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

Infinite Beauty

Lord Bacon Could As Easily Have Created The Planets As He Could Have Written Hamlet.

In A Symbol There Is Concealment And Yet Revelation: Here Therefore, By Silence And By Speech Acting Together, Comes A Double Significance. In The Symbol Proper, What We Can Call A Symbol, There Is Ever, More Or Less Distinctly And Directly, Some Embodiment And Revelation Of The Infinite; The Infinite Is Made To Blend Itself With The Finite, To Stand Visible, And As It Were, Attainable There. By Symbols, Accordingly, Is Man Guided And Commanded, Made Happy, Made Wretched.

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

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

Hero-worship Is The Deepest Root Of All; The Tap-root, From Which In A Great Degree All The Rest Were Nourished And Grown . . . Worship Of A Hero Is Transcendent Admiration Of A Great Man. I Say Great Men Are Still Admirable; I Say There Is, At Bottom, Nothing Else Admirable! No Nobler Feeling Than This Of Admiration For One Higher Than Himself Dwells In The Breast Of Men.

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

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.

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

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

For, Strictly Considered, What Is All Knowledge Too But Recorded Experience, And A Product Of History; Of Which, Therefore, Reasoning And Belief, No Less Than Action And Passion, Are Essential Materials?

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

The Most Unhappy Of All Men Is The Man Who Cannot Tell What He Is Going To Do, Who Has Got No Work Cut-out For Him In The World, And Does Not Go Into It. For Work Is The Grand Cure Of All The Maladies And Miseries That Ever Beset Mankind,honest Work, Which You Intend Getting Done.

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

Imagination Is A Poor Matter When It Has To Part Company With Understanding.

A Fourth Estate, Of Able Editors, Springs Up.

For All Right Judgment Of Any Man Or Things It Is Useful, Nay, Essential, To See His Good Qualities Before Pronouncing On His Bad.

The All Importance Of Clothes Has Sprung Up In The Intellect Of The Dandy Without Effort, Like An Instinct Of Genius; He Is Inspired With Clothes, A Poet Of Clothes.

A Collection Of Books Is The Best Of All Universities.

A Mind That Has Seen, And Suffered, And Done, Speaks To Us Of What It Has Tried And Conquered.

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

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.

Let Each Become All That He Was Created Capable Of Being.

Endurance Is Patience Concentrated.

Wonder Is The Basis Of Worship.

The Graceful Minuet-dance Of Fancy Must Give Place To The Toilsome, Thorny Pilgrimage Of Understanding. On The Transition From The Age Of Romance To That Of Science.

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

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

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.

Of All Acts Of Man Repentance Is The Most Divine. The Greatest Of All Faults Is To Be Conscious Of None.

Repentance And Forgiveness

All Destruction, By Violent Revolution Or However It Be, Is But New Creation On A Wider Scale.

Democracy Is, By The Nature Of It, A Self-canceling Business: And Gives In The Long Run A Net Result Of Zero.

No Violent Extreme Endures.

In Idleness There Is A Perpetual Despair.

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?

Thought Will Not Work Except In Silence.

Blessed Is He Who Has Found His Work; Let Him Ask No Other Blessedness. He Has A Work, A Life-purpose... Get Your Happiness Out Of Your Work Or You Will Never Know What Real Happiness Is... Even In The Meanest Sorts Of Labour, The Whole Soul Of A Man Is Composed Into A Kind Of Real Harmony The Instant He Sets Himself To Work!

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.

Books Are A Triviality. Life Alone Is Great.

All Human Souls, Never So Bedarkened, Love Light; Light Once Kindled Spreads Till All Is Luminous.

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

Have A Purpose In Life, And Having It, Throw Into Your Work Such Strength Of Mind And Muscle As God Has Given You.

A Heavenly Awe Overshadowed And Encompassed, As It Still Ought, And Must, All Earthly Business Whatsoever.

A Fundamental Mistake To Call Vehemence And Rigidity Strength! A Man Is Not Strong Who Takes Convulsion-fits; Though Six Men Cannot Hold Him Then. He That Can Walk Under The Heaviest Weight Without Staggering, He Is The Strong Man . . . A Man Who Cannot Hold His Peace, Till The Time Come For Speaking And Acting, Is No Right Man.

Our Grand Business Undoubtedly Is, Not To See What Lies Dimly At A Distance, But To Do What Lies Clearly At Hand.

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

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

Laws Themselves, Political Constitutions, Are Not Our Life; But Only The House Wherein Our Life Is Led.

One Life; A Little Gleam Of Time Between Two Eternities; No Second Chance To Us For Evermore!

Do Not Be Embarrassed By Your Mistakes. Nothing Can Teach Us Better Than Our Understanding Of Them. This Is One Of The Best Ways Of Self-education.

Laughter Is The Cipher Key Wherewith We Decipher The Whole Man

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

Men Are Grown Mechanical In Head And In The Heart, As Well As In The Hand. They Have Lost Faith In Individual Endeavour, And In Natural Force Of Any Kind.

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

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.

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.

Teaching School Is But Another Word For Sure And Not Very Slow Destruction.

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.

Not What I Have, But What I Do Is My Kingdom.

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

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.

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

Let Me Have My Own Way In Exactly Everything And A Sunnier And Pleasanter Creature Does Not Exist.

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.

Woe To Him That Claims Obedience When It Is Not Due; Woe To Him That Refuses It When It Is.

Show Me The Person You Honor, For I Know Better By That The Kind Of Person You Are. For You Show Me What Your Idea Of Humanity Is.

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.

Without Kindness There Can Be No True Joy.

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

The Whole Past Is The Procession Of The Present.

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.

Today Is Not Yesterday: We Ourselves Change; How Can Our Works And Thoughts, If They Are Always To Be The Fittest, Continue Always The Same? Change, Indeed Is Painful; Yet Ever Needful; And If Memory Have Its Force And Worth, So Also Has Hope.

Not Only Was Thebes Built By The Music Of An Orpheus; But Without The Music Of Some Inspired Orpheus Was No City Ever Built, No Work That Man Glories In Ever Done.

Once Turn To Practice, Error And Truth Will No Longer Consort Together.

Be A Pattern To Others, And Then All Will Go Well; For As A Whole City Is Affected By The Licentious Passions And Vices Of Great Men, So It Is Likewise Reformed By Their Moderation.

Under All Speech That Is Good For Anything There Lies A Silence That Is Better, Silence Is Deep As Eternity; Speech Is Shallow As Time.

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

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

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

Trending Author

Arthur C. Clarke

Richard Barnfield

Friedrich Durrenmatt

Category