work_id,theme,provenance,created_at,text,reviewed_on,id,comments,metaphor,dictionary,updated_at,context
5394,"",HDIS,2004-01-02 00:00:00 UTC,"The well-taught philosophic mind
To all compassion gives;
Casts round the world an equal eye,
And feels for all that lives.
If mind ,--as ancient sages taught,--
A never dying flame,
Still shifts through matter's varying forms,
In every form the same;
Beware, lest in the worm you crush,
A brother's soul you find;
And tremble lest thy luckless hand
Dislodge a kindred mind.
(ll. 25-36, pp. 71-2)",,14486,•Is this a literal or figurative assertion? It is quoted... which further confuses the distinction. ,"The mind may be ""a never dying flame""","",2009-09-14 19:41:01 UTC,""
5485,"",Reading,2003-07-28 00:00:00 UTC,"To doggerel now I turn my pen:
A time may come (but lord knows when)
That I may try to think again.
At present in my brain there floats
A thousand parti-colored motes;
From which, if time would but permit,
I might sift some sparks of wit;
And many a line in verse and prose
Are lost, whilst half-asleep I doze.
My pineal gland could you but view,
You'd scarce believe your eyes see true:
There's such a jumble; good and bad,
All sorts of thoughts, may there be had;
Like broker's shop, where we may find
Goods that belong to half mankind;
Which, should the master dare produce,
Are little worth, and out of use;
And joy could sparkle in his face,
Could he put better in their place.
Thus oft, from shop of brain, I try
To throw the dirt and rubbish by;
But still they gain their former state,
Or leave a vacuum in the pate.
(ll. 1-23, p. 346 in Lonsdale edition)",2003-10-23,14689,•More follows in the lines below. See next entry
•Some loose (FID-like) representations of thought follow in the next stanzas.
•Cross Reference: the Pythagorean idea of the soul?!,"""At present in my brain there floats / A thousand parti-colored motes; / From which, if time would but permit, / I might sift some sparks of wit.""","",2013-11-11 22:32:53 UTC,""
5503,"",Reading,2003-07-28 00:00:00 UTC,"Oh author of my being!--far more dear
To me than light, than nourishment, or rest,
Hygeia's blessings, Rapture's burning tear,
Or the life-blood that mantles in my breast!
If in my heart the love of Virtue glows,
'Twas planted there by an unerring rule;
From thy example the pure flame arose,
Thy life, my precept--thy good works, my school.
(ll. 1-8, p. 356)
",2004-10-13,14726, •What to do with mixed metaphors?
•I've included twice: Fire and Garden (10/13/2004),"The ""pure flame"" of virtue is planted ""by an unerring rule"" and glows in the heart","",2009-09-14 19:41:44 UTC,From Evelina
6939,"",Reading,2011-06-16 16:44:40 UTC,"Next follow the Psalms, with which you cannot be too conversant. If you have any taste, either for poetry or devotion, they will be your delight, and will afford you a continual feast. The Bible translation is far better than that used in the Common Prayer Book: and will often give you the sense, when the other is obscure. In this, as well as in all other parts of the scripture, you must be careful always to consult the margin, which gives you the corrections made since the last translation, and is generally preferable to the words of the text. I would wish you to select some of the Psalms that please you best, and get them by heart; or, at least, make yourself mistress of the sentiments contained in them: Dr. Delany's Life of David will show you the occasions on which several of them were composed, which add much to their beauty and propriety; and, by comparing them with the events of David's life, you will greatly enhance your pleasure in them. Never did the spirit of true piety breathe more strongly than in these divine songs; which, being added to a rich vein of poetry, makes them more captivating to my heart and imagination than any thing I ever read. You will consider how great disadvantages any poems must sustain from being rendered literally into prose, and then imagine how beautiful these must be in the original. May you be enabled, by reading them frequently, to transfuse into your own breast that holy flame which inspired the writer!--to delight in the Lord, and in his laws, like the Psalmist--to rejoice in him always, and to think ""one day in his courts better than a thousand!"" But may you escape the heart-piercing sorrow of such repentance as that of David, by avoiding sin, which humbled this unhappy king to the dust, and which cost him such bitter anguish, as it is impossible to read of without being moved. Not all the pleasures of the most prosperous sinner could counterbalance the hundredth part of those sensations described in his Penitential Psalms; and which must be the portion of every man, who has fallen from a religious state into such crimes, when once he recovers a sense of religion and virtue, and is brought to a real hatred of sin: however available such repentance may be to the safety and happiness of the soul after death, it is a state of such exquisite suffering here, that one cannot be enough surprised at the folly of those, who indulge in sin, with the hope of living to make their peace with God by repentance. Happy are they who preserve their innocence unsullied by any great or wilful crimes, and who have only the common failings of humanity to repent of: these are sufficiently mortifying to a heart deeply smitten with the love of virtue, and with the desire of perfection. There are many very striking prophecies of the Messiah in these divine songs; particularly in Psalm xxii: such may be found scattered up and down almost throughout the Old Testament. To bear testimony to him is the great and ultimate end, for which the spirit of prophecy was bestowed on the sacred writers:--but this will appear more plainly to you, when you enter on the study of prophecy, which you are now much too young to undertake.
(pp. 59-64)",,18685,pp. 29-31 in PGDP,"""May you be enabled, by reading them frequently, to transfuse into your own breast that holy flame which inspired the writer!""","",2011-06-16 16:44:40 UTC,"Volume I, Letter 2"
6941,"",Reading,2011-06-16 20:14:53 UTC,"BLEST Bard! to whom the Muses, grateful, gave
That pipe which erft their deareft Spenser won,
As once they found thee, pensive and alone,
Strewing sweet flow'rs upon his hallow'd grave;
Then bad thy fancy glow with sacred fire,
And softest airs thy rural verse inspire.
(p. 139)",,18701,"","""BLEST Bard! to whom the Muses, grateful, gave / That pipe which erft their deareft Spenser won, / As once they found thee, pensive and alone, / Strewing sweet flow'rs upon his hallow'd grave; / Then bad thy fancy glow with sacred fire, / And softest airs thy rural verse inspire.""","",2011-06-16 20:14:53 UTC,""
7629,"",ECCO-TCP,2013-08-19 03:43:53 UTC,"MOST willingly, my friend, do I return to my colours, and renew a correspondence from which I have ever received the sincerest pleasure, though no part of it ever afforded me more than your last letter--O Stanley, how much are you to be envied! But envy is a mean, contemptible vice, and utterly incompatible with friendship; I therefore do not envy, but rejoice, in your felicity, though certain that I am for ever barred from tasting bliss like yours; for well I know that heart-felt happiness is only to be found in a tender and virtuous connection with the object of our love and esteem; and that, alas! can never be my lot--My youth must pass away in gloomy, dreary, pining discontent. Would it were passed, and that like Aetna, though my bosom flamed, my head was crowned with snow.--Here let me drop the painful subject, and never, never, reassume it more.
(II, 12-13)",,22431,"","""Would it were passed, and that like Aetna, though my bosom flamed, my head was crowned with snow.""","",2013-08-19 03:43:53 UTC,""
7738,"",ECCO-TCP,2013-10-16 17:06:20 UTC,"How cruel is it to extinguish by neglect or unkindness, the precious sensibility of an open temper, to chill the amiable glow of an ingenous soul, and to quench the bright flame of a noble and generous spirit! These are of higher worth than all the documents of learning, of dearer price than all the advantages, which can be derived from the most refined and artificial mode of education.
(pp. 138-9)",,23016,"","""How cruel is it to extinguish by neglect or unkindness, the precious sensibility of an open temper, to chill the amiable glow of an ingenous soul, and to quench the bright flame of a noble and generous spirit!""","",2013-10-16 17:06:20 UTC,Thoughts on the Cultivation of the Heart and Temper in the Education of Daughters
7738,"",ECCO-TCP,2013-10-16 17:10:04 UTC,"To win the passions, therefore, over to the cause of virtue, answers a much nobler end than their extinction would possibly do, even if that could be effected. But it is their nature never to observe a neutrality; they are either rebels or auxiliaries, and an enemy subdued is an ally obtained.
If I may be allowed to change the allusion so soon, I would say, that the passions also resemble fires, which are friendly and beneficial when under proper direction, but if suffered to blaze without restraint, they carry devastation along with them, and, if totally extinguished, leave the benighted mind in a state of cold and comfortless inanity.
(pp. 155-6)",,23019,"","""If I may be allowed to change the allusion so soon, I would say, that the passions also resemble fires, which are friendly and beneficial when under proper direction, but if suffered to blaze without restraint, they carry devastation along with them, and, if totally extinguished, leave the benighted mind in a state of cold and comfortless inanity.""","",2013-10-16 17:10:04 UTC,Thoughts on the Cultivation of the Heart and Temper in the Education of Daughters
7739,"",ECCO-TCP,2013-10-16 17:22:46 UTC,"It seems very extraordinary, that it should be the most difficult thing in the world to be natural; and that it should be harder to hit off the manners of real life, and to delineate such characters as we converse with every day, than to imagine such as do not exist. But caricature is much easier than an exact outline, and the colouring of fancy less difficult than that of truth.
People do not always know what taste they have, till it is awakened by some corresponding object; nay, genius itself is a fire, which in many minds would never blaze, if not kindled by some external cause.
(p. 206)",,23029,"","""People do not always know what taste they have, till it is awakened by some corresponding object; nay, genius itself is a fire, which in many minds would never blaze, if not kindled by some external cause.""","",2013-10-16 17:22:46 UTC,""
5406,"",Reading,2013-11-17 16:48:12 UTC,"Such were the notes our chaster Sappho sung,
And every Muse dropped honey on her tongue.
Blest shade! how pure a breath of praise was thine,
Whose spotless life was faultless as thy line;
In whom each worth and every grace conspire,--
The Christian's meekness, and the poet's fire.
Learn'd without pride, a woman without art;
The sweetest manners, and the gentlest heart.
Smooth like her verse her passions learned to move,
And her whole soul was harmony and love.
Virtue that breast without a conflict gained,
And easy, like a native monarch, reigned.
On earth still favoured as by Heaven approved,
The world applauded, and Alexis loved.
With love, with health, with fame and friendship blest,
And of a cheerful heart the constant feast,
What more of bliss sincere could earth bestow?
What purer heaven could angels taste below?
But bliss from earth's vain scenes too quickly flies;
The golden cord is broke;--Alexis dies!
Now in the leafy shade and widowed grove
Sad Philomela mourns her absent love;
Now deep retired in Frome's enchanting vale,
She pours her tuneful sorrows on the gale;
Without one fond reserve the world disclaims,
And gives up all her soul to heavenly flames.
Yet in no useless gloom she wore her days;
She loved the work, and only shunned the praise:
Her pious hand the poor, the mourner blest;
Her image lived in every kindred breast.
Thynn, Carteret, Blackmore, Orrery approved,
And Prior praised, and noble Hertford loved;
Seraphic Kenn, and tuneful Watts were thine,
And virtue's noblest champions filled the line.
Blest in thy friendships! in thy death, too, blest!
Received without a pang to endless rest.
Heaven called the saint matured by length of days,
And her pure spirit was exhaled in praise.
Bright pattern of thy sex, be thou my Muse;
Thy gentle sweetness through my soul diffuse:
Let me thy palm, though not thy laurel share,
And copy thee in charity and prayer:--
Though for the bard my lines are far too faint,
Yet in my life let me transcribe the saint.
(ll. 1-44, pp. 96-7)",,23222,"","""Now deep retired in Frome's enchanting vale, / She pours her tuneful sorrows on the gale; / Without one fond reserve the world disclaims, / And gives up all her soul to heavenly flames.""","",2013-11-17 16:48:12 UTC,""