work_id,theme,provenance,created_at,text,reviewed_on,id,comments,metaphor,dictionary,updated_at,context
3948,"","Searching ""mind"" in Ad Fontes's Digital Library of Classic Protestant Texts",2005-07-20 00:00:00 UTC,"The Third Head in this Article, is that which is negatively expressed, That God is without Body, Parts, or Passions. In general, all these are so plainly contrary to the Ideas of Infinite Perfection, and they appear so evidently to be Imperfections, that this part of the Article will need little Explanation. We do plainly perceive that our Bodies are clogs to our Minds: And all the use that even the purest sort of Body in an Estate conceived to be glorified, can be of to a Mind, is to be an Instrument of local Motion, or to be a repository of Ideas for Memory and Imagination: But God, who is every where, and is one pure and simple Act, can have no such use for a Body. A Mind dwelling in a Body, is in many respects superior to it; yet in some [end page 54] respects is under it. We who feel how an Act of our Mind can so direct the Motions of our Body, that a thought sets our Limbs and Joints a-going, can from thence conceive, how that the whole extent of Matter, should receive such Motions as the Acts of the Supreme Mind give it: But yet not as a Body united to it, or that the Deity either needs such a Body, or can receive any trouble from it. Thus far the apprehension of the thing is very plainly made out to us. Our thoughts put some parts of our Body in a present Motion, when the Organization is regular, and all the parts are exact; and when there is no Obstruction in those Vessels or Passages through which that heat, and those Spirits do pass that cause the motion. We do in this perceive, that a thought does command matter; but our Minds are limited to our Bodies, and these do not obey them; but as they are in an exact disposition and a fitness to be so moved. Now these are plain Imperfections, but removing them from God, we can from hence apprehend that all the Matter in the Universe, may be so intirely subject to the Divine Mind, that it shall move and be whatsoever, and wheresoever he will have it to be. This is that which all men do agree in.
(pp. 54-5)",2011-08-31,10262,"","""We do plainly perceive that our Bodies are clogs to our Minds: And all the use that even the purest sort of Body in an Estate conceived to be glorified, can be of to a Mind, is to be an Instrument of local Motion, or to be a repository of Ideas for Memory and Imagination.""",Fetters,2011-08-31 13:38:37 UTC,""
4294,"","Searching ""heart"" and ""room"" in HDIS (Poetry)",2004-08-11 00:00:00 UTC,"Hypocrisie a gloomy Influence shades:
Truth sits upon the Brow, and Gladness spreads.
Hypocrisie is hollow, and unsound:
Integrity the firm substantial Ground.
The honest Face is plain, no painting there;
Few Plots hath Truth, but all her Plots sincere.
Truth hath such naked Charms, so matchless sweet,
They can't be copied by the Hypocrite;
Some Flaw discovers, till the artful Cheat.
Virtue, like th'ancient legal Ointment is;
None imitated that, none truly this.
God prescrib'd both, his Signature they bear;
All diff'rent Compounds, diff'rant Figures wear.
The Hypocrite, dull languid Motion makes,
His Heart's untouch'd, for all the Pains he takes:
But heav'nly Gales the virtuous Soul doth move,
Which ventilates, and blows the Flame of Love:
Hypocrisie contracts, there is no Room within,
The Heart is fetter'd and enthral'd by Sin.
Virtue delates the Heart, sublimes the Mind,
An elevating Joy the Virtuous find
Disburden'd of their Load, they leap for Joy;
Nought can their Pleasure Damp, their Peace annoy.
Integrity is bold, doth fear no Wrath;
With Looks compos'd, can meet approaching Death:
Smiles up to Heav'n, and Heav'n smiles down again,
The virtuous Soul finds Joy in midst of Pain.
With infant Sweetness, unto Heav'n appeals:
A lasting Friend, when every Creature fails.
Strong Proof of this, see in Joacim's Wife;
Sentenc'd to dy, she appeals the Spring of Life:
She rolls her self on God, to Him she flys,
Aloud to Heaven the pious Pannel cries.
A sacred Silence, struck the suppliant Crowd;
The perjur'd Judges, in Convulsions stood,
While she darts up a Pray'r, as sweet, as loud.
With so much Ardor, is the Insence sent,
(All saw the Devotee was Innocent,)
Pours out a holy Gush with Angels Air;
Zeal dictates Words, she needs not common Prayer.",,11235,•I've included twice: Container and Fetters,"""Hypocrisie contracts, there is no Room within, / The Heart is fetter'd and enthral'd by Sin.""",Fetters,2012-04-27 19:01:20 UTC,""
5501,"",Reading,2005-11-11 00:00:00 UTC,"Away then with all those vain pretences of making ourselves happy within ourselves, of feasting on our own thoughts, of being satisfied with the consciousness of well-doing, and of despising all assistance and all supplies from external objects. This is the voice of PRIDE, not of NATURE. And it were well, if even this pride could support itself, and communicate a real inward pleasure, however melancholy or severe. But this impotent pride can do no more than regulate the outside; and with infinite pains and attention compose the language and countenance to a philosophical dignity, in order to deceive the ignorant vulgar. The heart, mean while, is empty of all enjoyment: And the mind, unsupported by its proper objects, sinks into the deepest sorrow and dejection. Miserable, but vain mortal! Thy mind be happy within itself! With what resources is it endowed to fill so immense a void, and supply the place of all thy bodily senses and faculties? Can thy head subsist without thy other members? In such a situation,
What foolish figure must it make?
Do nothing else but sleep and ake.
Into such a lethargy, or such a melancholy, must thy mind by plunged, when deprived of foreign occupations and enjoyments.
(pp. 140-1)",2010-12-30,14721,•Liberty Fund edition can't identify lines of poetry. Notes that it is Hudibrastic.,"""The heart, mean while, is empty of all enjoyment: And the mind, unsupported by its proper objects, sinks into the deepest sorrow and dejection.""","",2010-12-30 23:26:48 UTC,Essay XV
5501,Mind and Body Dualism,Reading,2005-11-11 00:00:00 UTC,"Away then with all those vain pretences of making ourselves happy within ourselves, of feasting on our own thoughts, of being satisfied with the consciousness of well-doing, and of despising all assistance and all supplies from external objects. This is the voice of PRIDE, not of NATURE. And it were well, if even this pride could support itself, and communicate a real inward pleasure, however melancholy or severe. But this impotent pride can do no more than regulate the outside; and with infinite pains and attention compose the language and countenance to a philosophical dignity, in order to deceive the ignorant vulgar. The heart, mean while, is empty of all enjoyment: And the mind, unsupported by its proper objects, sinks into the deepest sorrow and dejection. Miserable, but vain mortal! Thy mind be happy within itself! With what resources is it endowed to fill so immense a void, and supply the place of all thy bodily senses and faculties? Can thy head subsist without thy other members? In such a situation,
What foolish figure must it make?
Do nothing else but sleep and ake.
Into such a lethargy, or such a melancholy, must thy mind by plunged, when deprived of foreign occupations and enjoyments.
(pp. 140-1)",,14722,•Liberty Fund edition can't identify lines of poetry. Notes that it is Hudibrastic.,"""With what resources is [the mind] endowed to fill so immense a void, and supply the place of all thy bodily senses and faculties?""","",2013-06-11 21:09:01 UTC,Essay XV
7479,"",Reading,2013-06-20 15:57:14 UTC,"Thus in some deep retirement would I pass
The winter-glooms, with friends of various turn,
Or blithe, or solemn, as the theme inspir'd:
With them would search, if Nature's boundless frame
Of nature rose from unproductive night,
Or sprung eternal from th' Eternal Cause;
Its springs, its laws, its progress, and its end.
Hence larger prospects of the beauteous whole
Would gradual open on our opening minds;
And each diffusive harmony unite,
In full perfection, to th' astonish'd eye.
Thence would we plunge into the moral world;
Which, though seemingly more perplex'd, moves on
In higher order; fitted and impell'd
By Wisdom's finest hand, and issuing all
In universal good. Historic truth
Should next conduct us thro' the deeps of time:
Point us how empire grew, revolv'd, and fell,
In scatter'd states; what makes the nations smile,
Improves their soil, and gives them double suns;
And why they pine beneath the brightest skies,
In nature's richest lap. As thus we talk'd,
Our hearts would burn within us, would inhale
That portion of divinity, that ray
Of purest Heaven, which lights the glorious flame
Of patriots, and of heroes. But if doom'd,
In powerless humble fortune, to repress
These ardent risings of the kindling soul;
Then, even superior to ambition, we
Would learn the private virtues; how to glide
Through shades and plains, along the smoothest stream
Of rural life: or snatch'd away by hope,
Through the dim spaces of futurity,
With earnest eye anticipate those scenes
Of happiness and wonder; where the mind,
In endless growth and infinite ascent,
Rises from state to state, and world to world.
And when with these the serious thought is foil'd,
We, shifting for relief, would play the shapes
Of frolic fancy; and incessant form
Unnumber'd pictures, fleeting o'er the brain
Yet rapid still renew'd, and pour'd immense
Into the mind, unbounded without space:
The great, the new, the beautiful; or mix'd,
Burlesque, and odd, the risible and gay;
Whence vivid Wit and Humour, droll of face,
Call Laughter forth, deep-shaking every nerve.
(ll. 568-614)",,21049,"","""And when with these the serious thought is foil'd, / We, shifting for relief, would play the shapes / Of frolic fancy; and incessant form / Unnumber'd pictures, fleeting o'er the brain / Yet rapid still renew'd, and pour'd immense / Into the mind, unbounded without space.""","",2013-06-20 15:57:14 UTC,""
4393,"","",2013-06-20 19:35:50 UTC,"AND let th' aspiring Youth beware of Love,
And shun th' enchanting Glance, for 'tis too late
When on his Heart the Torrent Softness pours.
Then Interest sinks to Dirt, and distant Fame
Dissolves in Air away. While the fond Soul
Is wrapt in Dreams of Ecstacy, and Bliss;
Still paints th' illusive Form, the kindling Grace,
Th' alluring Smile, the full aethereal Eye
Effusing Heaven; and listens ardent still
To the small Voice, where Harmony and Wit,
A modest, melting, mingled Sweetness, flow.
No sooner is the fair Idea form'd,
And Contemplation fixes on the Theme,
Than from his own Creation wild He flies,
Sick of a Shadow. Absence comes apace,
And shoots his every Pang into his Breast.
'Tis nought but Gloom around. The darken'd Sun
Loses his Light. The rosy-bosom'd Spring
To weeping Fancy pines; and yon bright Arch
Of Heaven low-bends into a dusky Vault.
All Nature fades extinct; and She alone
Heard, felt, and seen, possesses every Thought,
Fills every Sense, and pants in every Vein.
Books are but formal Dulness, tedious Friends,
And sad amid the Social Band he sits,
Lonely, and inattentive. From the Tongue
Th' unfinish'd Period falls: while, born away
On swelling Thought, his wafted Spirit flies
To the dear Bosom of his absent Fair;
And leaves the Semblance of a Lover, fix'd
In melancholy Site, with Head declin'd,
And Love-dejected Eyes. Sudden he starts,
Shook from his tender Trance, and restless runs
To glimmering Shades, and sympathetic Glooms,
Where the dun Umbrage o'er the falling Stream
Romantic hangs; there thro' the pensive Dusk
Strays, in Heart-thrilling Meditation lost,
Indulging all to Love: or on the Bank
Thrown, amid drooping Lillies, swells the Breeze
With Sighs unceasing, and the Brook with Tears.
Thus in soft Anguish he consumes the Day;
Nor quits his deep Retirement, till the Moon
Peeps thro' the Chambers of the fleecy East,
Enlighten'd by Degrees, and in her Train
Leads on the gentle Hours; then forth He walks,
Beneath the trembling Languish of her Beams,
With soften'd Soul, and wooes the Bird of Eve
To mingle Woes with his: or while the World,
And all the Sons of Care lie hush'd in Sleep,
Associates with the Mid-night Shadows drear,
And, sighing to the lonely Taper, pours
His sweetly-tortur'd Heart into the Page
Meant for the moving Messenger of Love.
But ah how faint, how meaningless, and poor
To what his Passion swells! which bursts the Bounds
Of every Eloquence, and asks for Looks,
Where Fondness flows on Fondness, Love on Love;
Entwisting Beams with Her's, and speaking more
Than ever charm'd, ecstatic Poet sigh'd
To listening Beauty, bright with conscious Smiles,
And graceful Vanity. But if on Bed
Delirious flung, Sleep from his Pillow flies.
All Night he tosses, nor the balmy Power
In any Posture finds; 'till the grey Morn
Lifts her pale Lustre on the paler Wretch,
Exanimate by Love: and then perhaps
Exhausted Nature sinks a-while to Rest,
Still interrupted by disorder'd Dreams,
That o'er the sick Imagination rise,
And in black Colours paint the mimic Scene.
Oft with the Charmer of his Soul he talks;
Sometimes in Crowds distrest; or if retir'd
To secret-winding, Flower-inwoven Bowers,
Far from the dull Impertinence of Man,
Just as He kneeling all his former Cares
Begins to lose in vast oblivious Love,
Snatch'd from her yielded Hand, he knows not how,
Thro' Forests huge, and long untravel'd Heaths
With Desolation brown, he wanders waste,
In Night and Tempest wrapt; or shrinks aghast,
Back, from the bending Precipice; or wades
The turbid Stream below, and strives to reach
The farther Shore, where succourless, and sad,
His Dearer Life extends her beckoning Arms,
But strives in vain, born by th' outragious Flood
To Distance down, he rides the ridgy Wave,
Or whelm'd beneath the boiling Eddy sinks.
Then a weak, wailing, lamentable Cry
Is heard, and all in Tears he wakes, again
To tread the Circle of revolving Woe.
These are the charming Agonies of Love,
Whose Misery delights. But thro' the Heart
Should Jealousy it's Venom once diffuse,
'Tis then delightful Misery no more,
But Agony unmixt, incessant Rage,
Corroding every Thought, and blasting all
The Paradise of Love. Ye Fairy Prospects then,
Ye Beds of Roses, and ye Bowers of Joy,
Farewell! Ye Gleamings of departing Peace,
Shine out your last! The yellow-tinging Plague
Internal Vision taints, and in a Night
Of livid Gloom Imagination wraps.
Ay then, instead of Love-enliven'd Cheeks,
Of Sunny Features, and of ardent Eyes
With flowing Rapture bright, dark Looks succeed,
Suffus'd, and glaring with untender Fire,
A clouded Aspect, and a burning Cheek,
Where the whole poison'd Soul, malignant, fits,
And frightens Love away. Ten thousand Fears,
Invented wild, ten thousand frantic Views
Of horrid Rivals, hanging on the Charms
For which he melts in Fondness, eat him up
With fervent Anguish, and consuming Pine.
In vain Reproaches lend their idle Aid,
Deceitful Pride, and Resolution frail,
Giving a Moment's Ease. Reflection pours,
Afresh, her Beauties on his busy Thought,
Her first Endearments, twining round the Soul,
With all the Witchcraft of ensnaring Love.
Strait the fierce Storm involves his Mind anew,
Flames thro' the Nerves, and boils along the Veins;
While anxious Doubt distracts the tortur'd Heart;
For even the sad Assurance of his Fears
Were Heaven to what he feels. Thus the warm Youth,
Whom Love deludes into his thorny Wilds,
Thro' flowery-tempting Paths, or leads a Life
Of feavor'd Rapture, or of cruel Care;
His brightest Aims extinguish'd all, and all
His lively Moments running down to Waste.
(pp. 48-54)",,21058,"","""All Nature fades extinct; and She alone / Heard, felt, and seen, possesses every Thought, / Fills every Sense, and pants in every Vein.""","",2013-06-20 19:46:28 UTC,Reading
7622,"",ECCO-TCP,2013-08-18 04:46:29 UTC,"LUCINUS
Beside the advantage of a good Memory, as it serves for making a figure in Conversation, it is still valuable upon better Reasons; since it may be made a Storehouse of the most profitable and agreeable things. If it is for the most part but a Magazine of Trash, the Gift itself is still to be esteemed; and a Man has his own bad choice to blame, for making such a Collection.
(pp. 85-6)",,22337,"","""If it is for the most part but a Magazine of Trash, the Gift itself is still to be esteemed; and a Man has his own bad choice to blame, for making such a Collection.""","",2013-08-18 04:46:29 UTC,""
7622,"",ECCO-TCP,2013-08-18 04:50:12 UTC,"AEMILIUS
But what shall we think of this odd Treasury, which retains things during a certain time, and then loses them, even before the Infirmities of Age come on? We say a thing has dropt out of our head: (where does it drop?) and it drops in again when we least expect it. What Corners do those Images lurk in? and how do they cast up? What portion of Matter, and of what figure, are they united to? and what Canals are they convey'd in? I hardly expect these Questions will be resolved; and the proposing them is only design'd to keep my self in mind of our Ignorance, both of the Defects, and the remaining Excellencies of our Nature.
(pp. 86-7)",,22340,"","""But what shall we think of this odd Treasury, which retains things during a certain time, and then loses them, even before the Infirmities of Age come on? We say a thing has dropt out of our head: (where does it drop?) and it drops in again when we least expect it. What Corners do those Images lurk in? and how do they cast up? What portion of Matter, and of what figure, are they united to? and what Canals are they convey'd in?""",Rooms,2013-08-18 04:50:12 UTC,""
7622,Lockean,ECCO-TCP,2013-08-18 04:53:06 UTC,"LUCINUS
As to the first Entry of Ideas into the Mind, you know Aristotle has been blamed for affirming that nothing is in the Understanding which was not before in the Senses. But there seems to be no great danger in that Opinion, if we do not limit the Senses to too small a number. You remember Mr. Locke's Account of their Entry?
AEMILIUS
Not well.
LUCINUS
'Tis to this purpose:
""The Senses at first let in particular Ideas, and furnish the yet empty Cabinet: and the Mind, by degrees growing familiar with some of them, they are lodg'd in the Memory, and Names got to them, &c.""
AEMILIUS
Obscurum per Obscurius. The question is, how this Familiarity arises? and how the Cabinet comes to be sensible of any thing that's put into it? A Scritore knows nothing of the Papers which the careful Banker locks up in it? Or a Glass, tho' it may be said to receive the Image of a Beau, and he really sees somewhat of himself in it; yet it can hardly be said to see any thing of him. It would rather seem the Mind had some native Light of its own, which is awaken'd we know not how, and flies out, as it were, thro' the Senses to the things it apprehends or lays hold on.
(p. 88)",,22341,INTEREST. RICH PASSAGE. Locke cited. USE IN ENTRY.,"""The question is, how this Familiarity arises? and how the Cabinet comes to be sensible of any thing that's put into it? A Scritore knows nothing of the Papers which the careful Banker locks up in it? Or a Glass, tho' it may be said to receive the Image of a Beau, and he really sees somewhat of himself in it; yet it can hardly be said to see any thing of him. It would rather seem the Mind had some native Light of its own, which is awaken'd we know not how, and flies out, as it were, thro' the Senses to the things it apprehends or lays hold on.""",Mirror and Rooms and Writing ,2013-08-18 04:53:26 UTC,""
7698,"",Reading,2013-10-03 02:25:18 UTC,"Sure! 'tis a serious Thing to Die! My Soul!
What a strange Moment must it be, when near
Thy Journey's End, thou hast the Gulf in View!
That awful Gulf, no Mortal e'er repass'd
To tell what's doing on the other Side!
Nature runs back, and shudders at the Sight,
And every Life-string bleeds at Thoughts of parting!
For part they must: Body and Soul must part;
Fond Couple! link'd more close than wedded Pair.
This wings its Way to its Almighty Source,
The Witness of its Actions, now its Judge:
That drops into the dark and noisome Grave,
Like a disabled Pitcher of no Use.
(p. 24, ll. 369-381)",,22914,"","""This wings its Way to its Almighty Source, / The Witness of its Actions, now its Judge: / That drops into the dark and noisome Grave, / Like a disabled Pitcher of no Use.""","",2013-10-03 02:25:18 UTC,""