 Posted: Tue 15:04, 30 Oct 2012 Post subject: |
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| Posted: Fri 14:01, 14 Oct 2011 Post subject: Take which you please |
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| Take which you please, you can never have both. Between these, as a pendulum, man oscillates. He in whom the love of repose predominates will accept the first creed, the first philosophy, the first political party he meets, most likely his father's. He gets rest, commodity, and reputation; but he shuts the door of truth. He in whom the love of truth predominates will keep himself aloof from all moorings, and afloat. He will abstain from dogmatism, and recognize all the opposite negations, between which, as walls, his being is swung. He submits to the inconvenience of suspense and imperfect opinion, but he is a candidate for truth, as the other is not, and respects the highest law of his being. The circle of the green earth he must measure with his shoes, to find the man who can yield him truth. He shall then know that there is somewhat more blessed and great in hearing than in speaking. Happy is the hearing man; unhappy the speaking man. As long as I hear truth, I am bathed by a beautiful element, and am not conscious of any limits to my nature. The suggestions are thousandfold that I hear and see. The waters of the great deep have ingress and egress to the soul. But if I speak, I define, I confine, and am less. When Socrates speaks, Lysis and Menexenus are afflicted by no shame that they do not speak. They also are good. He likewise defers to them, loves them, whilst he speaks. Because a true and natural man contains and is the same truth which an eloquent man articulates: but in the eloquent man, because he can articulate it, it seems something the less to reside, and he turns to these silent beautiful with the more inclination and respect. The ancient sentence said, Let us be silent, for so are the gods. Silence is a solvent that destroys personality, and gives us leave to be great and universal. Every man's progress is through a succession of teachers, each of whom seems at the time to have a superlative influence, but it at last gives place to a new. Frankly let him accept it all. Jesus says, Leave father, mother, house and lands, and follow me. Who leaves all, receives more. This is as true intellectually as morally. Each new mind we approach seems to require an abdication of all our past and present possessions. A new doctrine seems, at first, a subversion of all our opinions, tastes, and manner of living. Such has Swedenborg, such has Kant, such has Coleridge, such has Hegel or his interpreter Cousin, seemed to many young men in this country. Take thankfully and heartily all they can give.designer handbags
wholesale shoes cheap clothes gucci handbags Exhaust them, wrestle with them, let them not go until their blessing be won, and, after a short season, the dismay will be overpast, the excess of influence withdrawn, and they will be no longer an alarming meteor, but one more bright star shining serenely in your heaven, and blending its light with all your day. But whilst he gives himself up unreservedly to that which draws him, because that is his own, he is to refuse himself to that which draws him not, whatsoever fame and authority may attend it, because it is not his own. Entire selfreliance belongs to the intellect. One soul is a counterpoise of all souls, as a capillary column of water is a balance for the sea. |
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| Posted: Fri 11:38, 14 Oct 2011 Post subject: love's free to choose and do |
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| Seldom is Friday quite like all the week. Arcita, having sung, began to speak, And sat him down, sighing like one forlorn. "Alas," said he, "the day that I was born! How long, O Juno, of thy cruelty, Wilt thou wage bitter war on Thebes city? Alas! Confounded beyond all reason The blood of Cadmus and of Amphion; The Canterbury Tales The Canterbury Tales 33Of royal Cadmus, who was the first man To build at Thebes, and first the town began, And first of all the city to be king; Of his lineage am I, and his offspring, By true descent, and of the stock royal: And now I'm such a wretched serving thrall, That he who is my mortal enemy, I serve him as his squire, and all humbly. And even more does Juno give me shame, For I dare not acknowledge my own name; But whereas I was Arcita by right, Now I'm Philostrates, not worth a mite. Alas, thou cruel Mars! Alas, Juno! Thus have your angers all our kin brought low, Save only me, and wretched Palamon, Whom Theseus martyrs yonder in prison. And above all, to slay me utterly, Love has his fiery dart so burningly Struck through my faithful and careladen heart, My death was patterned ere my swaddlingshirt. You slay me with your two eyes, Emily; You are the cause for which I now must die. For on the whole of all my other care I would not set the value of a tare, So I could do one thing to your pleasance!" And with that word he fell down in a trance That lasted long; and then he did upstart. This Palamon, who thought that through his heart He felt a cold and sudden sword blade glide, For rage he shook, no longer would he hide.
adidas tracksuit ed hardy boots prada boots cheap polo shirts But after he had heard Arcita's tale, As he were mad, with face gone deathly pale, He started up and sprang out of the thicket, Crying: "Arcita, oh you traitor wicked, Now are you caught, that crave my lady so, For whom I suffer all this pain and woe, And are my blood, and know my secrets' store, As I have often told you heretofore, And have befooled the great Duke Thesues, And falsely changed your name and station thus: Either I shall be dead or you shall die. You shall not love my lady Emily, But I will love her, and none other, no; For I am Palamon, your mortal foe. And though I have no weapon in this place, Being but out of prison by God's grace, I say again, that either you shall die Or else forgo your love for Emily. Choose which you will, for you shall not depart." This Arcita, with scornful, angry heart, When he knew him and all the tale had heard, The Canterbury Tales The Canterbury Tales 34Fierce as a lion, out he pulled a sword, And answered thus: "By God that sits above! Were it not you are sick and mad for love, And that you have no weapon in this place, Out of this grove you'd never move a pace, But meet your death right now, and at my hand. For I renounce the bond and its demand Which you assert that I have made with you. What, arrant fool, love's free to choose and do, And I will have her, spite of all your might! But in as much as you're a worthy knight And willing to defend your love, in mail, Hear now this word: tomorrow I'll not fail (Without the cognizance of any wight) To come here armed and harnessed as a knight, And to bring arms for you, too, as you'll see; And choose the better and leave the worse for me. And meat and drink this very night I'll bring, Enough for you, and clothes for your bedding. And if it be that you my lady win And slay me in this wood that now I'm in, Then may you have your lady, for all of me." This Palamon replied: "I do agree." And thus they parted till the morrow morn, When each had pledged his honour to return. O Cupido, that know'st not charity! O despot, that no peer will have with thee! Truly, 'tis said, that love, like all lordship, Declines, with little thanks, a partnership. Well learned they that, Arcite and Palamon. |
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