Sartor ResartusMacmillan, 1927 - 264 էջ |
Այլ խմբագրություններ - View all
Sartor Resartus: The Life and Opinions of Herr Zenfelsdröck in Three Books Thomas Carlyle Ամբողջությամբ դիտվող - 1833 |
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Adamite altogether amid Apron art thou Auscultator Baphometic Bed of Justice Biography biped Blumine Body Boötes called Carlyle Carlyle's celestial century CHAP CHAPTER character Craigenputtock Dandiacal dark Devil Diogenes discern divine dröckh Earth Ecclefechan English Entepfuhl Eternity eyes faculty feeling Fraser's Magazine Garment German Goethe happy hast heart Heaven Herr hitherto Hofrath Heuschrecke hope Hugo Von Trimberg infinite less light living look Love Majen man's mankind ment Mystagogue mysterious mystic Nature never Nevertheless nowise once perhaps Philosophy of Clothes Poor-Slave present Editor Professor Teufelsdröckh Prophet Religion round Sartor Resartus Satanic School Schreckhorn Science Sect seems silent Society Sorrow sort soul speak spinning city spirit stand strange Symbols Tailors Teufels thee thereof things thou thought tion Tissue Tophet transcendental true Ulfila Universe utterance visible Volume Weissnichtwo whereby wherein whole whoso wilt wonder words worship young
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Էջ 136 - 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. O the 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?
Էջ 57 - All visible things are Emblems ; what thou seest is ' not there on its own account ; strictly taken, is not there ' at all : Matter exists only spiritually, and to represent ' some Idea, and body it forth.
Էջ 145 - For great Men I have ever had the warmest predilection ; and can perhaps boast that few such in this era have wholly escaped me. Great Men are the inspired (speaking and acting) Texts of that divine Book of Revelations, whereof a Chapter is completed from epoch to epoch, and by some named History...
Էջ 158 - Wilt thou help us to embody the divine Spirit of that Religion in a new Mythus, in a new vehicle and vesture, that our Souls, otherwise too like perishing, may live? What! thou hast no faculty in that kind ? Only a torch for burning, no hammer for building? Take our thanks, then, and — thyself away.
Էջ xvii - Produce ! Produce ! Were it but the pitifullest 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. Work while it is called Today ; for the Night cometh, wherein no man can work.
Էջ 55 - Celeste and Hegel's Philosophy, and the epitome of all Laboratories and Observatories with their results, in his single head, — is but a Pair of Spectacles behind which there is no Eye.
Էջ 193 - Phoenix is fanning her funeral pyre, will there not be sparks flying! Alas, some millions of men, and among them such as a Napoleon, have already been licked into that high-eddying Flame, and like moths consumed there.
Էջ 125 - No trace of man now visible ; unless indeed it were he who fashioned that little visible link of Highway, here, as would seem, scaling the inaccessible, to unite Province with Province. But sunwards, lo you ! how it towers sheer up, a world of Mountains, the diadem and centre of the mountain region ! A hundred and a hundred savage peaks, in the last light of Day ; all glowing, of gold and amethyst, like giant spirits of the wilderness...
Էջ 183 - A right Conjuror might I name thee, couldst thou conjure back into these wooden tools the divine virtue they once held.' 'Of this thing, however, be certain: wouldest thou plant for Eternity, then plant into the deep infinite faculties of man, his Fantasy and Heart; wouldst thou plant for Year and Day, then plant into his shallow superficial faculties, his Self-love and Arithmetical Understanding, what will grow there.
Էջ 154 - With other eyes, too, could I now look upon my fellow man ; with an infinite Love, an infinite Pity. Poor, wandering, wayward man ! Art thou not tried, and beaten with stripes, even as I am? Ever, whether thou bear the royal mantle or the beggar's gabardine, art thou not so weary, so heavy-laden ; and thy Bed of Rest is but a Grave. 0 my Brother, my Brother, why cannot I shelter thee in my bosom, and wipe away all tears from thy eyes...