He sympathised with poverty, but did nothing to improve the lot of the poor. It is evening, and there in the churchyard Warne's wife bursts out against old Agnes Paston: It is dictatorial too: And sometimes, since trophies from the amazing new world were eagerly awaited at home, together with unicorns' horns and lumps of ambergris and the fine stories of the engendering of whales and debates of elephants and dragons whose blood, mixed, congealed into vermilion, a living sample would be sent, a live savage caught somewhere off the coast of Labrador, taken to England, and shown about like a wild beast. Old Fastolf, cumbered with wealth and property, had his vision at the end of Hell fire, and shrieked aloud to his executors to distribute alms, and see that prayers were said in perpetuum, so that his soul might escape the agonies of purgatory.
In Jane Austen, too, we have the same sense, though the ligatures are much less tight, that her figures are bound, and restricted to a few definite movements. Chaucer was a poet; but he never flinched from the life that was being lived at the moment before his eyes. First there is the compactness of the expression. They must acquire land; but they must obey their parents.
A book of quotations can never be complete. [ Robert M. Hamilton ]
He collected coins, kept maggots in boxes, dissected the lungs of frogs, braved the stench of the spermaceti whale, tolerated Jews, had a good word for the deformity of the toad, and combined a scientific and sceptical attitude towards most things with an unfortunate belief in witches. We can never doubt for an instant that his book was himself. It is for this reason that Montaigne stands out from the legions of the dead with such irrepressible vivacity. O, my lords, I but deceived your eyes with antic gesture, When one news straight came huddling on another Of death! Margaret still ruled the house.
These are the fine stories used effectively all through the West country to decoy the apt young men lounging by the harbour-side to leave their nets and fish for gold. To understand him it is not so necessary to understand Greek as to understand poetry. Is not Pentheus, for example, that highly respectable man, made ridiculous in the Bacchae before he is destroyed? In Jane Austen, too, we have the same sense, though the ligatures are much less tight, that her figures are bound, and restricted to a few definite movements.
Whatever he writes is stamped with his own idiosyncrasy, and we first become conscious of impurities which hereafter stain literature with so many freakish colours that, however hard we try, it is difficult to be certain whether we are looking at a man or his writing. Sterne, from fear of coarseness, is forced into indecency. But it is not so easy to decide what it is that gives these cries of Electra in her anguish their power to cut and wound and excite. The Odyssey is merely a story of adventure, the instinctive story-telling of a sea-faring race.
For we are apt to forget, reading, as we tend to do, only the masterpieces of a bygone age, how great a power the body of a literature possesses to impose itself: He is forced to contract. It is true that the islands are not thickly populated, and the people, though everything is made by hands, are not closely kept at work. And I shall always be your herald both here, if she come hither, and at home, when I come home, which I hope hastily within XI. The Elizabethans bore us, then, because their Smiths are all changed to dukes, their Liverpools to fabulous islands and palaces in Genoa.
One expedition might fail, but what if the passage to the fabled land of uncounted riches lay only a little farther up the coast? How then can we compare this lumbering and lagging art with poetry? And then as he rode or sat at table he would remember some description or saying which bore upon the present moment and fixed it, or some string of words would charm him, and putting aside the pressure of the moment, he would hasten home to sit in his chair and learn the end of the story.
Find the good stuff
Such were the fruits of a well-spent life. But here is nothing immature; here are full-grown people, crafty, subtle, and passionate. That all can feel--the indomitable honesty, the courage, the love of truth which draw Socrates and us in his wake to the summit where, if we too may stand for a moment, it is to enjoy the greatest felicity of which we are capable. This soul, or life within us, by no means agrees with the life outside us. That is the quality that first strikes us in Greek literature, the lightning-quick, sneering, out-of-doors manner. There can be no more forcible preaching than this where all actions and passions are represented, and instead of being solemnly exhorted we are left to stray and stare and make out a meaning for ourselves.
But each movement must tell to the utmost, or, bound as she is, denied the relief of all hints, repetitions, suggestions, she will be nothing but a dummy, tightly bound. But no book, no tomb, had power to hold him long. There is no blur about her, no hesitation; she proves nothing; she is content to be herself.
In short, as we say when we cannot help laughing at the oddities of people we admire most, he was a character, and the first to make us feel that the most sublime speculations of the human imagination are issued from a particular man, whom we can love. The nightingale has only to be named by Sophocles and she sings; the grove has only to be called [Greek text-5] , untrodden, and we imagine the twisted branches and the purple violets. The play-- 'Tis pity she's a Whore --upon which this judgement is chiefly based shows us the whole nature of Annabella spun from pole to pole in a series of tremendous vicissitudes. He was one of those ambiguous characters who haunt the boundary line where one age merges in another and are not able to inhabit either.
First there is the compactness of the expression. It was not that the lawsuit saddened her; she was ready to defend Caister with her own hands if need be, though I cannot well guide nor rule soldiers, but there was something wrong with the family since the death of her husband and master. One generation at least in that fortunate time is blown on to be writers to the extreme; to attain that unconsciousness which means that the consciousness is stimulated to the highest extent; to surpass the limits of small triumphs and tentative experiments. They admit us to a vision of the earth unravaged, the sea unpolluted, the maturity, tried but unbroken, of mankind. But each movement must tell to the utmost, or, bound as she is, denied the relief of all hints, repetitions, suggestions, she will be nothing but a dummy, tightly bound.
No individual raindrop ever considers itself responsible for the flood. Source Unknown
Here we meet them before their emotions have been worn into uniformity. He was an able public servant and a courtier, but his views upon sexual morality were extremely lax. Can virtue be taught?