work_id,theme,provenance,created_at,text,reviewed_on,id,comments,metaphor,dictionary,updated_at,context
5088,"",Reading,2012-01-30 17:53:31 UTC,"Great wits jump: for the moment Dr. Slop cast his eyes upon his bag (which he had not done till the dispute with my uncle Toby about midwifery put him in mind of it)--the very same thought occurred.--'Tis God's mercy, quoth he, (to himself) that Mrs. Shandy has had so bad a time of it,--else she might have been brought to bed seven times told, before one half of these knots could have got untied.--But here, you must distinguish--the thought floated only in Dr. Slop's mind, without sail or ballast to it, as a simple proposition; millions of which, as your worship knows, are every day swiming quietly in the middle of the thin juice of a man's understanding, without being carried backwards or forwards, till some little gusts of passion or interest drive them to one side.
(III.ix, pp. 27-8)",,19550,"Great, disgusting, spermatick stream of consciousness","""But here, you must distinguish--the thought floated only in Dr. Slop's mind, without sail or ballast to it, as a simple proposition; millions of which, as your worship knows, are every day swiming quietly in the middle of the thin juice of a man's understanding, without being carried backwards or forwards, till some little gusts of passion or interest drive them to one side.""","",2012-01-30 17:53:31 UTC,"Volume III, Chapter 9"
5301,"",Reading,2013-10-26 19:47:46 UTC,"--Dear sensibility! source inexhausted of all that's precious in our joys, or costly in our sorrows! thou chainest thy martyr down upon his bed of straw--and 'tis thou who lifts him up to Heaven--eternal fountain of our feelings!--'tis here I trace thee--and this is thy divinity which stirs within me--not that, in some sad and sickening moments, ""my soul shrinks back upon herself, and startles at destruction""--mere pomp of words!--but that I feel some generous joys and generous cares beyond myself--All comes from thee, great, great Sensorium of the world! which vibrates, if a hair of our heads but falls upon the ground, in the remotest desert of thy creation.--Touch'd with thee, Eugenius draws my curtain when I languish--hears my tale of symptoms, and blames the weather for the disorder of his nerves. Thou giv'st a portion of it sometimes to the roughest peasant who traverses the bleakest mountains--he finds the lacerated lamb of another's flock-- This moment I behold him leaning with his head against his crook, with piteous inclination looking down upon it--Oh! had I come one moment sooner!--it bleeds to death--his gentle heart bleeds with it--
(II, pp. 182-3)",,23068,"","""Dear sensibility! source inexhausted of all that's precious in our joys, or costly in our sorrows! thou chainest thy martyr down upon his bed of straw--and 'tis thou who lifts him up to Heaven--eternal fountain of our feelings!--'tis here I trace thee--and this is thy divinity which stirs within me--not that, in some sad and sickening moments, 'my soul shrinks back upon herself, and startles at destruction'--mere pomp of words!--but that I feel some generous joys and generous cares beyond myself--All comes from thee, great, great Sensorium of the world! which vibrates, if a hair of our heads but falls upon the ground, in the remotest desert of thy creation.""","",2013-10-26 19:47:46 UTC,""