Our own thought sounds new and larger from his mouth.
Our own thought sounds new and larger from his mouth.Yet the systole and diastole of the heart are not without their analogy in the ebb and flow of love.Tags: Practice Law School EssaysRubric Research Papers CollegeImmanuel Kant 1795 Essay Toward Perpetual PeaceRevised Essay DefinitionWriting An Outline For A Research Paper Apa3 Paragraph Essay FormatProper Essay Cover PageMaster Creative WritingAcademic Help Essays
He has heard the first, the last and best he will ever hear from us. Vulgarity, ignorance, misapprehension are old acquaintances. Now, when he comes, he may get the order, the dress, and the dinner,--but the throbbing of the heart, and the communications of the soul, no more.
What is so pleasant as these jets of affection which make a young world for me again?
I chide society, I embrace solitude, and yet I am not so ungrateful as not to see the wise, the lovely, and the noble-minded, as from time to time they pass my gate.
Who hears me, who understands me, becomes mine,--a possession for all time. By oldest right, by the divine affinity of virtue with itself, I find them, or rather not I, but the Deity in me and in them derides and cancels the thick walls of individual character, relation, age, sex, circumstance, at which he usually connives, and now makes many one.
I awoke this morning with devout thanksgiving for my friends, the old and the new.
Shall I not call God the Beautiful, who daily showeth himself so to me in his gifts?Nor is nature so poor but she gives me this joy several times, and thus we weave social threads of our own, a new web of relations; and, as many thoughts in succession substantiate themselves, we shall by and by stand in a new world of our own creation, and no longer strangers and pilgrims in a traditionary globe. High thanks I owe you, excellent lovers, who carry out the world for me to new and noble depths, and enlarge the meaning of all my thoughts.These are new poetry of the first Bard,--poetry without stop,--hymn, ode, and epic, poetry still flowing, Apollo and the Muses chanting still.I confess to an extreme tenderness of nature on this point.It is almost dangerous to me to Comus, line 47.', STICKY)" on Mouse Out="nd();" class="popup" "crush the sweet poison of misused wine" of the affections.A commended stranger is expected and announced, and an uneasiness betwixt pleasure and pain invades all the hearts of a household.His arrival almost brings fear to the good hearts that would welcome him. We have the nimblest fancy, a richer memory, and our dumb devil has taken leave for the time.My careful heart was free again, O friend, my bosom said, Through thee alone the sky is arched, Through thee the rose is red, All things through thee take nobler form, And look beyond the earth, And is the mill-round of our fate A sun-path in thy worth.Me too thy nobleness has taught To master my despair; The fountains of my hidden life Are through thy friendship fair.The moment we indulge our affections, the earth is metamorphosed; there is no winter, and no night; all tragedies, all ennuis, vanish,--all duties even; nothing fills the proceeding eternity but the forms all radiant of beloved persons.Let the soul be assured that somewhere in the universe it should rejoin its friend, and it would be content and cheerful alone for a thousand years.