Shelburne Essays, Volume 6

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G. P. Putnam's sons, 1909 - Dualism - 355 pages
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Page 168 - The primary imagination I hold to be the living power and prime agent of all human perception, and as a repetition in the finite mind of the eternal act of creation in the infinite I AM.
Page 194 - For my descent then, it was, as is well known by many, of a low and inconsiderable generation; my father's house being of that rank that is meanest and most despised of all the families in the land.
Page 191 - Dangerous it were for the feeble brain of man to wade far into the doings of the Most High ; whom although to know be life, and joy to make mention of his name ; yet our soundest knowledge is, to know that we know him not as indeed he is, neither can know him ; and our safest eloquence concerning him, is our silence, when we confess without confession, that his glory is inexplicable, hie greatness above our capacity and reach.
Page 354 - How charming is divine Philosophy! Not harsh and crabbed, as dull fools suppose, But musical as is Apollo's lute, And a perpetual feast of nectar'd sweets, Where no crude surfeit reigns.
Page 220 - As man, perhaps, the moment of his breath Receives the lurking principle of death; The young disease, that must subdue at length, Grows with his growth, and strengthens with his strength; So, cast and mingled with his very frame. The mind's disease, its ruling passion came...
Page 183 - And surely it is not a melancholy conceit to think we are all asleep in this world, and that the conceits of this life are as mere dreams, to those of the next, as the phantasms of the night, to the conceit of the day.
Page 159 - Though Somnus in Homer be sent to rouse up Agamemnon, I find no such effects in these drowsy approaches of sleep. To keep our eyes open longer, were but to act our Antipodes. The huntsmen are up in America, and they are already past their first sleep in Persia. But who can be drowsy at that hour which freed us from everlasting sleep ? or have slumbering thoughts at that time, when sleep itself must end, and, as some conjecture, all shall awake again...
Page 176 - Herostratus lives that burnt the temple of Diana, he is almost lost that built it ; Time hath spared the epitaph of Adrian's horse, confounded that of himself. In vain we compute our felicities by the advantage of our good names, since bad have...
Page 187 - But at my back I always hear Time's winged chariot hurrying near; And yonder all before us lie Deserts of vast eternity.
Page 173 - Now for my life, it is a miracle of thirty years, which to relate, were not a History, but a piece of Poetry, and would sound to common ears like a Fable.

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