Background Image

...

What I Loved In The Man Was His Health, His Unity With Himself; All People And All Things Seemed To Find Their Quite Peaceable Adjustment With Him, Not A Proud Domineering One, As After Doubtful Contest, But A Spontaneous-looking Peaceable, Even Humble One.

-Thomas Carlyle

...

Please Wait....
Translating....

What I Loved In

Thomas Carlyle

...

What I Loved In The Man Was His Health, His Unity With Himself; All People And All Things Seemed To Find Their Quite Peaceable Adjustment With Him, Not A Proud Domineering One, As After Doubtful Contest, But A Spontaneous-looking Peaceable, Even Humble One.

Views: 4

Topic

More From Thomas Carlyle

The Actual Well Seen Is Ideal.

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

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.

The Past Is All Holy To Us; The Dead Are All Holy; Even They That Were Wicked When Alive.

Whose School-hours Are All The Days And Nights Of Our Existence.

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

He That Works And Does Some Poem, Not He That Merely Says One, Is Worthy Of The Name Of Poet.

For Every One Hundred Men Who Can Stand Adversity There Is Only One Who Can Withstand Prosperity.

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

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!

Of Our Thinking It Is But The Upper Surface That We Shape Into Articulate Thought; Underneath The Region Of Argument And Conscious Discourse Lies The Region Of Meditation.

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

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.

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

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

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

How Indestructibly The Good Grows, And Propagates Itself, Even Among The Weedy Entanglements Of Evil.

In A Symbol There Is Concealment And Yet Revelation: Here Therefore, By Silence And By Speech Acting Together, Comes A Double Significance.

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

A Man Lives By Believing Something: Not By Debating And Arguing About Many Things.

A Man Without A Goal Is Like A Ship Without A Rudder.

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.

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

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 Wise Man Is But A Clever Infant, Spelling Letters From A Hieroglyphical Prophetic Book, The Lexicon Of Which Lies In Eternity.

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

Considering The Multitude Of Mortals That Handle The Pen In These Days, And Can Mostly Spell, And Write Without Glaring Violations Of Grammar, The Question Naturally Arises: How Is It, Then, That No Work Proceeds From Them, Bearing Any Stamp Of Authenticity And Permanence; Of Worth For More Than One Day?

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.

Great Men Are The Commissioned Guides Of Mankind, Who Rule Their Fellows Because They Are Wiser.

Speech Is Silver, Silence Is Golden.

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.

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

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

In The True Literary Man There Is Thus Ever, Acknowledged Or Not By The World, A Sacredness: He Is The Light Of The World; The World's Priest; -- Guiding It, Like A Sacred Pillar Of Fire, In Its Dark Pilgrimage Through The Waste Of Time.

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.

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

Sarcasm I Now See To Be, In General, The Language Of The Devil; For Which Reason I Have Long Since As Good As Renounced It.

The Whole Past Is The Procession Of The Present.

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

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.

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

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

Delirium Tremens

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 Books Lies The Soul Fo The Whole Past Time.

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?

Midas-eared Mammonism, Double-barrelled Dilettantism, And Their Thousand Adjuncts And Corollaries, Are Not The Law By Which God Almighty Has Appointed This His Universe To Go.

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

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

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.

A Stammering Man Is Never A Worthless One. Physiology Can Tell You Why. It Is An Excess Of Sensibility To The Presence Of His Fellow Creature, That Makes Him Stammer.

I Never Heard Tell Of Any Clever Man That Came Of Entirely Stupid People.

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

Necessity Dispenseth With Decorum.

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.

Whoso Has Sixpence Is Sovereign (to The Length Of Sixpence) Over All Men; Commands Cooks To Feed Him, Philosophers To Teach Him, Kings To Mount Guard Over Him,to The Length Of Sixpence.

The Times Are Very Bad. Very Well, You Are There To Make Them Better.

A Good Book Is The Purest Essence Of A Human Soul.

Every Poet, Be His Outward Lot What It May, Finds Himself Born In The Midst Of Prose; H E Has To Struggle From The Littleness And Obstruction Of An Actual World Into The Freedom And Infinitude Of An Ideal.

Isolation Is The Sum Total Of Wretchedness To A Man.

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.

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

The Purpose Of Man Is In Action Not Thought.

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?

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.

The Great Man's Sincerity Is Of The Kind He Cannot Speak Of, Is Not Conscious Of: Nay, I Suppose, He Is Conscious Rather Of Insincerity; For What Man Can Walk Accurately By The Law Of Truth For One Day? No, The Great Man Does Not Boast Himself Sincere, Far From That; Perhaps Does Not Ask Himself If He Is So: I Would Say Rather, His Sincerity Does Not Depend On Himself; He Cannot Help Being Sincere!

No Man Is Born Without Ambitious Worldly Desires.

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

Alas! We Know That Ideals Can Never Be Completely Embodied In Practice. Ideals Must Ever Lie A Great Way Off--and We Will Thankfully Content Ourselves With Any Not Intolerable Approximation Thereto! Let No Man, As Schiller Says, Too Querulously "measure By A Scale Of Perfection The Meager Product Of Reality" In This Poor World Of Ours.

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.

Properly Speaking, All True Work Is Religion.

The Dust Of Controversy Is Merely The Falsehood Flying Off.

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

History Is Philosophy Teaching By Experience.

Not One False Man But Doth Uncountable Evil.

Rightly Viewed No Meanest Object Is Insignificant; All Objects Are As Windows Through Which The Philosophic Eye Looks Into Infinitude Itself.

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!

When New Turns Of Behavior Cease To Appear In The Life Of The Individual, Its Behavior Ceases To Be Intelligent.

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.

A Man Perfects Himself By Working. Foul Jungles Are Cleared Away, Fair Seed-fields Rise Instead, And Stately Cities; And With The Man Himself First Ceases To Be A Jungle, And Foul Unwholesome Desert Thereby. The Man Is Now A Man.

All Work, Even Cotton-spinning, Is Noble; Work Is Alone Noble.

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

Repentance And Forgiveness

Skepticism . . . Is Not Intellectual Only It Is Moral Also, A Chronic Atrophy And Disease Of The Whole Soul.

Infinite Is The Help Man Can Yield To Man.

War Is A Quarrel Between Two Thieves Too Cowardly To Fight Their Own Battle.

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

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.

Custom Doth Make Dotards Of Us All.

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.

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.

Reform, Like Charity, Must Begin At Home.

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

History, As It Lies At The Root Of All Science, Is Also The First Distinct Product Of Man's Spiritual Nature, His Earliest Expression Of What May Be Called Thought.

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

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.

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.

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

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.

If An Eloquent Speaker Speak Not The Truth, Is There A More Horrid Kind Of Object In Creation?

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?

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

No Ghost Was Every Seen By Two Pair Of Eyes.

Nature Admits No Lie.

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!

Blessed Be The God's Voice; For It Is True, And Falsehoods Have To Cease Before It!

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.

In Every Object There Is Inexhaustible Meaning; The Eye Sees In It What The Eye Brings Means Of Seeing.

Who Is There That, In Logical Words, Can Express The Effect Music Has On Us?

History Is The Distillation Of Rumour.

What The Light Of Your Mind, Which Is The Direct Inspiration Of The Almighty, Pronounces Incredible, That, In God's Name, Leave Uncredited. At Your Peril Do Not Try Believing That!

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.

Nothing That Was Worthy In The Past Departs; No Truth Or Goodness Realized By Man Ever Dies, Or Can Die.

Produce, Produce! Were It But The Pitifulest, Infinitesimal Fraction Of A Product, Produce It In God's Name. 'tis The Utmost Thou Hast In Thee? Out With It Then! Up, Up! Whatsoever Thy Hand Findeth To Do, Do It With Thy Whole Might.

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

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

The World Is An Old Woman, And Mistakes Any Gilt Farthing For A Gold Coin; Whereby Being Often Cheated, She Will Thenceforth Trust Nothing But The Common Copper.

Without Kindness There Can Be No True Joy.

The Greatest Mistake Is To Imagine That We Never Err.

Do Nothing, Only Keep Agitating, Debating; And Things Will Destroy Themselves.

We Have Profoundly Forgotten Everywhere That Cash-payment Is Not The Sole Relation Of Human Beings.

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.

We Were Wise Indeed, Could We Discern Truly The Signs Of Our Own Time; And By Knowledge Of Its Wants And Advantages, Wisely Adjust Our Own Position In It. Let Us, Instead Of Gazing Idly Into The Obscure Distance, Look Calmly Around Us, For A Little, On The Perplexed Scene Where We Stand. Perhaps, On A More Serious Inspection, Something Of Its Perplexity Will Disappear, Some Of Its Distinctive Characters And Deeper Tendencies More Clearly Reveal Themselves; Whereby Our Own Relations To It, Our Own True Aims And Endeavors In It, May Also Become Clearer.

I Don't Pretend To Understand The Universe - It's A Great Deal Bigger Than I Am.

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.

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 Latest Gospel In This World Is, Know Thy Work And Do It.

The World Is A Thing That A Man Must Learn To Despise, And Even To Neglect, Before He Can Learn To Reverence It, And Work In It And For It.

No Person Is Important Enough To Make Me Angry.

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.

It Is A Vain Hope To Make People Happy By Politics.

All Comes Out Even At The End Of The Day.

The End Of The Day

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

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

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.

There Are Depths In Man That Go To The Lowest Hell, And Heights That Reach The Highest Heaven, For Are Not Both Heaven And Hell Made Out Of Him, Everlasting Miracle And Mystery That He Is.

Music Is Well Said To Be The Speech Of Angels.

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.

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

The Spiritual Is The Parent Of The Practical.

There Is No Permanent Place In This Universe For Evil... Evil May Hide Behind This Fallacy And That, But It Will Be Hunted From Fallacy To Fallacy Until There Is No More Fallacy For It To Hide Behind.

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

The First Purpose Of Clothes... Was Not Warmth Or Decency, But Ornament.... Among Wild People, We Find Tattooing And Painting Even Prior To Clothes. The First Spiritual Want Of A Barbarous Man Is Decoration; As Indeed We Still See Among The Barbarous Classes In Civilized Countries.

A Laugh, To Be Joyous, Must Flow From A Joyous Heart, For Without Kindness, There Can Be No True Joy.

Work Is The Grand Cure Of All The Maladies And Miseries That Ever Beset Mankind.

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

O Time! Time! How It Brings Forth And Devours! And The Roaring Flood Of Existence Rushes On Forever Similar, Forever Changing!

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

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

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

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

Biography Is The Only True History.

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

To A Shower Of Gold Most Things Are Penetrable.

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

No Iron Chain, Or Outward Force Of Any Kind, Could Ever Compel The Soul Of Man To Believe Or To Disbelieve: It Is His Own Indefeasible Light, That Judgment Of His; He Will Reign And Believe There By The Grace Of God Alone!

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

Democracy Means Despair Of Finding Any Heroes To Govern You, And Contented Putting Up With The Want Of Them.

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.

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

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

Laughter Means Sympathy.

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

The Persians Are Called The French Of The East; We Will Call The Arabs Oriental Italians. A Gifted Noble People; A People Of Wildstrong Feelings, And Of Iron Restraint Over These: The Characteristic Of Noblemindedness, Of Genius.

Popular Opinion Is The Greatest Lie In The World.

Contented Saturnine Human Figures, A Dozen Or So Of Them, Sitting Around A Large Long Table...perfect Equality Is To Be The Rule; No Rising Or Notice Taken When Anybody Enters Or Leaves. Let The Entering Man Take His Place And Pipe, Without Obligatory Remarks; If He Cannot Smoke...let Him At Least Affect To Do So, And Not Ruffle The Established Stream Of Things.

See Deep Enough, And You See Musically.

Music And Healing

What Is Philosophy But A Continual Battle Against Custom?

A Noble Book! All Men's Book!

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

Earnestness Alone Makes Life Eternity.

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

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!

Might And Right Do Differ Frightfully From Hour To Hour, But Then Centuries To Try It In, They Are Found To Be Identical.

The Devil Has His Elect.

All Great Peoples Are Conservative.

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

He Who Cannot Withal Keep His Mind To Himself Cannot Practice Any Considerable Thing Whatsoever.

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.

In A Different Time, In A Different Place, It Is Always Some Other Side Of Our Common Human Nature That Has Been Developing Itself. The Actual Truth Is The Sum Of All These.

Of All God's Creatures, Man Alone Is Poor.

Piety Does Not Mean That A Man Should Make A Sour Face About Things, And Refuse To Enjoy In Moderation What His Maker Has Given.

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.

There Is Something In Man Which Your Science Cannot Satisfy.

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.

All Reform Except A Moral One Will Prove Unavailing.

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.

Success In Life, In Anything, Depends Upon The Number Of Persons That One Can Make Himself Agreeable To.

Success In Life

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.

Every Man Has A Coward And Hero In His Soul.

Speech Is Of Time, Silence Is Of Eternity.

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.

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.

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

Shakespeare Says, We Are Creatures That Look Before And After; The More Surprising That We Do Not Look Around A Little, And See What Is Passing Under Our Very Eyes.

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

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

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.

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

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!

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

Trending Author

Guillaume Apollinaire

Brian Austin Green

Theodore Parker

Tamara Ecclestone

Category