Thomas Carlyle: A History of His Life in London, 1834-1881, Volume 1

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Page 65 - The Future hides in it Gladness and sorrow ; We press still thorow, Nought that abides in it Daunting us, — onward. And solemn before us, Veiled, the dark Portal, Goal of all mortal : — Stars silent rest o'er us, Graves under us silent While earnest thou gazest, Comes boding of terror, Comes phantasm and error, Perplexes the bravest With doubt and misgiving. But heard are the Voices, — Heard are the Sages, The Worlds and the Ages : " Choose well, your choice is Brief and yet endless : Here...
Page 57 - Gironde, etc., etc.: it all stands pretty fair in my head; nor do I mean to investigate much more about it, but to splash down what I know, in large masses of colours; that it may look like a smoke-and-flame conflagration in the distance, — which it is.
Page 2 - He shall be a wild ass of a man, his hand against every man and every man's hand against him; and he shall dwell over against all his kinsmen.
Page 245 - Carlyle, — For the first time for many months it seems possible to send you a few words ; merely, however, for remembrance and farewell. On higher matters there is nothing to say. I tread the common road into the great darkness, •without any thought of fear and with very much of hope. Certainty, indeed, I have none.
Page 289 - That evening he talked of the present state of things in England, giving light, witty sketches of the men of the day, fanatics and others, and some sweet, homely stories he told of things he had known of the Scotch peasantry. Of you he spoke with hearty kindness, and...
Page 88 - As it had deawed bene with timely raine ; Life and long health that gracious ointment gave, And deadly wounds could heale, and reare againe The sencelesse corse appointed for the grave.
Page 61 - Carlyle's face, beautifully set off by a broad-brimmed white hat, gazed in at the door, like the Peri, who, "at the Gate of Heaven, stood disconsolate.
Page 289 - To interrupt him is a physical impossibility. If you get a chance to remonstrate for a moment, he raises his voice and bears you down. True, he does you no injustice, and, with his admirable penetration, sees the disclaimer in your mind, so that you are not morally delinquent; but it is not pleasant to be unable to utter it.
Page 74 - I find on a general view that the book is one of the savagest written for several centuries. It is a book written by a wild man, a man disunited from the fellowship of the world he lives in, looking king and beggar in the face with an indifference of brotherhood and an indifference of contempt.
Page 155 - A fine, large-featured, dim-eyed, bronze-coloured, shaggy-headed man is Alfred; dusty, smoky, free, and easy; who swims outwardly and inwardly with great composure in an articulate element as of tranquil chaos and tobacco smoke; great now and then when he does emerge; a most restful, brotherly, solid-hearted man.

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