updated_at,id,text,theme,metaphor,work_id,reviewed_on,provenance,created_at,comments,context,dictionary
2013-06-05 19:45:32 UTC,20392,"Where falls this censure? It o'erwhelms myself.
How was my heart incrusted by the world!
O how self-fetter'd was my grovelling soul!
How, like a worm, was I wrapt round and round
In silken thought, which reptile Fancy spun,
Till darken'd Reason lay quite clouded o'er
With soft conceit of endless comfort here,
Nor yet put forth her wings to reach the skies!
(ll. 155-162, p. 41 in CUP edition)","","""How, like a worm, was I wrapt round and round / In silken thought, which reptile Fancy spun, / Till darken'd Reason lay quite clouded o'er / With soft conceit of endless comfort here, / Nor yet put forth her wings to reach the skies!""",7399,,Reading,2013-06-05 19:45:32 UTC,"",Night the First,Animals
2013-06-05 21:12:22 UTC,20408,"On this, or similar, Philander!--thou
Whose mind was moral as the Preacher's tongue,
And strong to wield all science worth the name;--
How often we talk'd down the summer's sun,
And cool'd our passions by the breezy stream!
How often thaw'd and shorten'd winter's eve,
By conflict kind, that struck out latent truth,
Best found, so sought; to the recluse more coy!
Thoughts disentangle, passing o'er the lip;
Clean runs the thread; if not, 'tis thrown away
Or kept to tie up nonsense for a song;
Song, fashionably fruitless; such as stains
The fancy, and unhallow'd passion fires;
Chiming her saints to Cytherea's fane.
(ll. 447-460, pp. 62-3)","","""Thoughts disentangle, passing o'er the lip; / Clean runs the thread; if not, 'tis thrown away / Or kept to tie up nonsense for a song; / Song, fashionably fruitless; such as stains / The fancy, and unhallow'd passion fires; / Chiming her saints to Cytherea's fane.""",7400,,Reading,2013-06-05 21:12:22 UTC,"",Night the Second,""
2013-06-11 14:23:34 UTC,20512,"And chase we still the phantom through the fire,
O'er bog, and brake, and precipice, till death?
And toil we still for sublunary pay,
Defy the dangers of the field and flood?
Or, spider-like, spin out our precious all,
Our more than vitals spin (if no regard
To great futurity) in curious webs
Of subtle thought, and exquisite design,
(Fine net-work of the brain!) to catch a fly,
The momentary buzz of vain renown,
A name, a mortal immortality?
(ll. 204-214, p. 154 in CUP edition)","","""Or, spider-like, spin out our precious all, / Our more than vitals spin (if no regard / To great futurity) in curious webs / Of subtle thought, and exquisite design, / (Fine net-work of the brain!) to catch a fly, / The momentary buzz of vain renown, / A name, a mortal immortality?""",7408,,Reading,2013-06-11 14:23:34 UTC,"",Night the Sixth,Animals