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My Inner Life: Being a Chapter in Personal Evolution and Autobiography, Volum 1
John Beattie Crozier
Visualització completa - 1908
action appeared beauty began begin belief body boys bring brought called Carlyle cause CHAPTER character complex consequence continued course distinction doctrine effect entirely evolution existence explain expression fact faculties fall feeling felt figure follow Force give given going hand head heart higher human human mind Ideal imagination individual intellectual interest kind knowledge laws light lived looking material Matter means mere merely metaphysical method mind moral namely Nature necessary never object observation once organ passed perhaps Philosophy Phrenology physical practically present problem reason regarded relations remember rest round Science seemed seen sense sentiments separate side society soul Spencer spirit standing things Thinkers thought true truth turn Universe walked whole
Pàgina 311 - I better brook the loss of brittle life Than those proud titles thou hast won of me ; They wound my thoughts worse than thy sword my flesh: But thought's the slave of life, and life time's fool; And time, that takes survey of all the world, Must have a stop.
Pàgina 303 - My conceit of his person was never increased toward him by his place, or honours : but I have and do reverence him, for the greatness that was only proper to himself, in that he seemed to me ever, by his work, one of the greatest men, and most worthy of admiration, that had been in many ages. In his adversity I ever prayed, that God would give him strength ; for greatness he could not want.
Pàgina 301 - Their palaces were houses not made with hands, their diadems crowns of glory which should never fade away. On the rich and the eloquent, on nobles and priests, they looked down with contempt; for they esteemed themselves rich in a more precious treasure and eloquent in a more sublime language, nobles by the right of an earlier creation and priests by the imposition of a mightier hand.
Pàgina 311 - Come not to me again : but say to Athens, Timon hath made his everlasting mansion Upon the beached verge of the salt flood ; Who once a day with his embossed froth The turbulent surge shall cover : thither come, And let my grave-stone be your oracle.