Thomas Carlyle: The Man and His Books : Illustrated by Personal Reminiscences, Table-talk, and Anecdotes of Himself and His Friends |
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admiration American Annandale appeared beautiful biography Burns called Carlyle's Carlyle's house century character Charles Buller Chartism Chelsea Cheyne Row Church Craigenputtoch critic Cromwell Dumfries Dumfriesshire Ecclefechan Edinburgh editor Edward Irving England English Erskine essay fact father feeling French Revolution gave genius German Goethe hand heard heart honour humour Illustrations Japp John John Knox John Sterling Kirkcaldy Knox labour Latter-Day Pamphlets lectures Leigh Hunt letter literary literature living Lochgoin London look Lord Mazzini memory mind minister mother native never newspaper noble once opinion parish perhaps poet political poor portrait published Quincey readers Sartor Sartor Resartus Scotland Scottish seems sketch spirit Sterling story student style things Thomas Aird Thomas Carlyle thought tion told took truth village volume Welsh William words worthy writings written wrote young
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Page 150 - Truths, fell mysteriously over my soul. Sweeter than Dayspring to the Shipwrecked in Nova Zembla; ah, like the mother's voice to her little child that strays bewildered, weeping, in unknown tumults; like soft streamings of celestial music to my too-exasperated heart, came that Evangel. The Universe is not dead and demoniacal, a charnel-house with spectres; but godlike, and my Father's!
Page 233 - Christ died on the tree ; that built Dunscore kirk yonder; that brought you and me together. Time has only a relative existence.
Page 143 - I found the house amid desolate heathery hills, where the lonely scholar nourished his mighty heart. Carlyle was a man from his youth, an author who did not need to hide from his readers, and as absolute a man of the world, unknown and exiled on that hillfarm, as if holding on his own terms what is best in London.
Page 180 - It has been one of my hopes to add something to the popular and picturesque means of understanding that terrible time, though no one can hope to add anything to the philosophy of Mr. CARLYLE'S wonderful book.
Page 37 - The Hinterschlag Professors knew syntax enough; and of the human soul thus much: that it had a faculty called Memory, and could be acted-on through the muscular integument by appliance of birchrods.
Page 198 - Mazzini for a series of years ; and whatever I may think of his practical insight and skill in worldly affairs, I can with great freedom testify to all men that he, if I have ever seen one such, is a man of genius and virtue, a man of sterling veracity, humanity, and nobleness of mind, one of those rare men, numerable unfortunately but as units in this world, who are worthy to be called martyr souls ; who in silence, piously in their daily life, understand and practise what is meant by that.
Page 67 - I have my health to recover. And then once more I shall venture my bark upon the waters of this wide realm, and if she cannot weather it, I shall steer west, and try the waters of another world.
Page 177 - He seems, to me, quite isolated, — lonely as the desert, — yet never was a man more fitted to prize a man, could he find one to match his mood. He finds them, but only in the past. He sings, rather than talks. He pours upon you a kind of satirical, heroical, critical poem, with regular cadences, and generally catching up, near the beginning, some singular epithet, which serves as a refrain when his song is full, or with which, as with a knitting needle, he catches up the stitches, if he has chanced,...
Page 248 - Principle in our times, too indisputable an incarnation; Gin the black throat into which wretchedness of every sort, consummating itself by calling on delirium to help it, whirls down; abdication of the power to think or resolve, as too painful now, on the part of men whose lot of all others would require thought and resolution ; liquid Madness sold at tenpence the quartern, all the products of which are and must be, like its origin, mad, miserable, ruinous, and that only!
Page 184 - Symbol of Eternity imprisoned into 'Time!' it is not thy works, which are all mortal, infinitely little, and the greatest no greater than the least, but only the Spirit thou workest in, that can have worth or continuance.