theme,metaphor,work_id,dictionary,provenance,id,created_at,updated_at,reviewed_on,comments,text,context
"","""Ambition raises a secret Tumult in the Soul, it inflames the Mind, and puts it into a violent hurry of Thought.""",4159,"",Searching on-line offerings at Free-Press Online Library of Liberty (OLL),10709,2005-05-26 00:00:00 UTC,2013-06-04 20:53:45 UTC,,"","Ambition raises a secret Tumult in the Soul, it inflames the Mind, and puts it into a violent hurry of Thought: It is still reaching after an empty imaginary Good; that has not in it the power to abate or satisfy it. Most other things we long for can allay the cravings of their proper Sense, and for a while set the Appetite at rest: But Fame is a Good so wholly foreign to our Natures, that we have no Faculty in the Soul adapted to it, nor any Organ in the Body to relish it; an Object of Desire placed out of the possibility of Fruition. It may indeed fill the Mind for a while with a giddy kind of Pleasure, but it is such a Pleasure as makes a Man restless and uneasy under it; and which does not so much satisfy the present Thirst, as it excites fresh Desires, and sets the Soul on new Enterprises. For how few ambitious Men are there, who have got as much Fame as they desired, and whose thirst after it has not been as eager in the very height of their Reputation, as it was before they became known and eminent among Men? There is not any Circumstance inCaesar's Character which gives me a greater Idea of him, than a Saying whichCicero tells us he frequently made use of in private Conversation, That he was satisfied with his share of Life and Fame. Se satis vel ad Naturam, vel ad Gloriam vixisse.3 Many indeed have given over their pursuits after Fame, but that has proceeded either from the Disappointments they have met in it, or from their Experience of the little Pleasure which attends it, or from the better Informations or natural Coldness of Old-Age; but seldom from a full Satisfaction and Acquiescence in their present Enjoyments of it.
(pp. 159-60)",""
Flights of Fancy,"""When Fancy makes superior Flight her Aim, / Wing'd with this vig'rous, clear seraphick Flame, / She ranges Nature's universal Frame; / Bright Seeds of Thought from various Objects takes, / Whence her fair Scenes and Images she makes: / Spirits so swift, so fine, so bold, so strong, / Gave Milton Genius fit for Milton's Song.""",4153,"",Searching in HDIS (Poetry),10720,2005-08-29 00:00:00 UTC,2013-06-04 15:27:07 UTC,2009-07-31,•I had included twice: Birds and Seeds. — I've since decide this is not an Animal metaphor: REVISED (Uncategorized::Wing),"Here proper Ferments animate the Blood,
And give just Vigour to the bounding Flood.
The vital Streams with due impulsive Force
Spring from the Heart, and triumph in their Course;
Rarely a dull unagitated Mass
Do's lazy linger in its circling Race:
Nor do's a flaming rapid Torrent fry
The winding Tubes, and leave the Muscles dry;
While the mild Dews, forc'd with too great a Fire,
Desert the Limbs, and thro' the Pores perspire.
The Purple Streams, warm to a just Degree,
From Dregs and unconcocted Juices free,
As they pervade the Channels of the Brain,
Their purer Parts thro' the fine Meshes strain.
These active Liquors, which Admission find
Thro' the strait Paths, and leave the coarse behind,
Swift to the inmost Rooms their Passage beat,
And crowd around the Soul's Imperial Seat;
Of subtile Matter form'd, refin'd and bright,
As Light'ning sprightly, and serene as Light,
Watching their Soveraign's Nod, they ready stand
Apt to perform the Mind's supream Command.
Such noble Vital Instruments are fit
For Reason's Works, and beauteous Turns of Wit.
With finer Strokes they move the tender Strings
Tun'd in the Brain, whence clear Perception springs.
When Fancy makes superior Flight her Aim,
Wing'd with this vig'rous, clear seraphick Flame,
She ranges Nature's universal Frame;
Bright Seeds of Thought from various Objects takes,
Whence her fair Scenes and Images she makes:
Spirits so swift, so fine, so bold, so strong,
Gave Milton Genius fit for Milton's Song.",""
"","""What shall I say, or whither turn? / With Grief, and Rage, and Love, I burn: From Thought to Thought my Soul is toss'd, / And in the Whirle of Passion lost.""",7410,"",Searching in Google Books,20545,2013-06-12 13:53:56 UTC,2013-06-12 13:53:56 UTC,,"","Enter King.
Some dreadful Birth of Fate is near:
Or why, my Soul, unus'd to fear
With secret Horror dost thou shake?
Can Dreams such dire Impressions make!
What means this solemn silent Show?
This Pomp of Death, this Scene of Woe!
Support me, Heav'n! What's this I read?
O Horror! Rosamond is dead.
What shall I say, or whither turn?
With Grief, and Rage, and Love, I burn:
From Thought to Thought my Soul is toss'd,
And in the Whirle of Passion lost.
Why did I not in Battle fall,
Crush'd with the Thunder of the Gauls
Why did the Spear my Bosom miss;
Ye Pow'rs, was I reserv'd for this!
Disracted with Woe
I'll rush on the Foe
To seek my Relief:
The Sword or the Dart
Shall pierce my sad Heart,
And finish my Grief!
(III.i, p. 31)","Act III, Scene i"
"","""Ambition raises a secret Tumult in the Soul, it inflames the Mind, and puts it into a violent Hurry of Thought: It is still reaching after an empty imaginary Good, that has not in it the Power to abate or satisfy it.""",4159,"","Searching ""mind"" in Project Gutenberg e-text. ",20894,2013-06-17 19:38:27 UTC,2013-06-17 19:38:27 UTC,,"","Ambition raises a secret Tumult in the Soul, it inflames the Mind, and puts it into a violent Hurry of Thought: It is still reaching after an empty imaginary Good, that has not in it the Power to abate or satisfy it. Most other Things we long for can allay the Cravings of their proper Sense, and for a while set the Appetite at Rest: But Fame is a Good so wholly foreign to our Natures, that we have no Faculty in the Soul adapted to it, nor any Organ in the Body to relish it; an Object of Desire placed out of the Possibility of Fruition. It may indeed fill the Mind for a while with a giddy kind of Pleasure, but it is such a Pleasure as makes a Man restless and uneasy under it; and which does not so much satisfy the present Thirst, as it excites fresh Desires, and sets the Soul on new Enterprises. For how few ambitious Men are there, who have got as much Fame as they desired, and whose Thirst after it has not been as eager in the very Height of their Reputation, as it was before they became known and eminent among Men? There is not any Circumstance in Cæsar's Character which gives me a greater Idea of him, than a Saying which Cicero tells us3 he frequently made use of in private Conversation, That he was satisfied with his Share of Life and Fame, Se satis vel ad Naturam, vel ad Gloriam vixisse. Many indeed have given over their Pursuits after Fame, but that has proceeded either from the Disappointments they have met in it, or from their Experience of the little Pleasure which attends it, or from the better Informations or natural Coldness of old Age; but seldom from a full Satisfaction and Acquiescence in their present Enjoyments of it.",""
"","""The Desire of it stirs up very uneasy Motions in the Mind, and is rather inflamed than satisfied by the Presence of the Thing desired.""",4159,"","Searching ""mind"" in Project Gutenberg e-text.
",20896,2013-06-17 19:40:57 UTC,2013-06-17 19:40:57 UTC,,"","So inconsiderable is the Satisfaction that Fame brings along with it, and so great the Disquietudes, to which it makes us liable. The Desire of it stirs up very uneasy Motions in the Mind, and is rather inflamed than satisfied by the Presence of the Thing desired. The Enjoyment of it brings but very little Pleasure, tho' the Loss or Want of it be very sensible and afflicting; and even this little Happiness is so very precarious, that it wholly depends on the Will of others. We are not only tortured by the Reproaches which are offered us, but are disappointed by the Silence of Men when it is unexpected; and humbled even by their Praises.",""
"","""Strong as the Winds, and sprightly as the Light? / She [the mind] moves unweary'd, as the active Fire, / And, like the Flame, her Flights to Heav'n aspire.""",4167,"",Reading,22106,2013-08-07 16:54:23 UTC,2013-08-07 16:54:23 UTC,,"","What high Perfections grace the human Mind,
In Flesh imprison'd, and to Earth confin'd!
What Vigour has she? What a piercing Sight?
Strong as the Winds, and sprightly as the Light?
She moves unweary'd, as the active Fire,
And, like the Flame, her Flights to Heav'n aspire.
By Day her Thoughts in never-ceasing Streams
Flow clear, by Night they strive in troubled Dreams.
She draws ten thousand Landschapes in the Brain,
Dresses of airy Forms an endless Train,
Which all her Intellectual Scenes prepare,
Enter by turns the Stage, and disappear.
To the remoter Regions of the Sky
Her swift-wing'd Thought can in a Moment fly;
Climb to the Heights of Heav'n, to be employ'd
In viewing thence th'Interminable Void.
Can look beyond the Stream of Time, to see
The stagnant Ocean of Eternity.
Thoughts in an Instant thro' the Zodiack run,
A Year's long Journey for the lab'ring Sun:
Then down they shoot, as swift as darting Light,
Nor can opposing Clouds retard their Flight:
Thro' Subterranean Vaults with Ease they sweep,
And search the hidden Wonders of the Deep.
(VII, ll. 204-227, pp. 323-4)",Book VII