Collected Works, 13. kötet

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Chapman and Hall, 1870
 

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293. oldal - But heard are the Voices, Heard are the Sages, The Worlds and the Ages: " Choose well ; your choice is Brief, and yet endless. " Here eyes do regard you, In Eternity's stillness ; Here is all fulness, Ye brave, to reward you ; Work, and despair not.
246. oldal - Properly thou hast no other knowledge but what thoti hast got by working : the rest is yet all a hypothesis of knowledge ; a thing to be argued of in schools, a thing floating in the clouds, in endless logic-vortices, till we try it and fix it. ' Doubt, of whatever kind, can be ended by Action alone.
40. oldal - To him that hath shall be given, and from him that hath not shall be taken away even that which he hath,' — that doctrines like these should be applied in the State, and especially in a monarchically, paternally governed State.
4. oldal - Tall, robust figures, young mostly or of middle age; of honest countenance, many of them thoughtful and even intelligent-looking men. They sat there, near by one another; but in a kind of torpor, especially in a silence, which was very striking. In silence: for, alas, what word was to be said ? An Earth all lying round, crying, Come and till me, come and reap me; — yet we here sit enchanted!
251. oldal - Produce ! Produce ! Were it but the pitifullest infinitesimal fraction of a Product, produce it in God's name ! 'Tis the utmost thou hast in thee; out with it then. Up, up ! Whatsoever thy hand findeth to do, do it with thy whole might. Work while it is called To-day, for the Night cometh wherein no man can work.
245. oldal - Rude lumps of clay, how they spin themselves up, by mere quick whirling, into beautiful circular dishes. And fancy the most assiduous Potter, but without his wheel; reduced to make dishes, or rather amorphous botches, by mere kneading and baking...
172. oldal - ... under which the world lies writhing in atrophy and agony. You touch the focal-centre of all our disease, of our frightful nosology of diseases, when you lay your hand on this. There is no religion ; there is no God ; man has lost his soul, and vainly seeks antiseptic salt.
251. oldal - All true Work is sacred ; in all true Work, were it but true hand-labor, there is something of divineness. Labor, wide as the Earth, has its summit in Heaven. Sweat of the brow ; and up from that to sweat of the brain, sweat of the heart ; which includes all Kepler calculations, Newton meditations, all Sciences, all spoken Epics, all acted Heroisms, Martyrdoms...
21. oldal - For men's hearts ought not to be set against one another ; but set with one another, and all against the Evil Thing only.
155. oldal - There is but one temple in the Universe,' says the devout Novalis, ' and that is the Body of Man. Nothing is holier than that high form. Bending before men is a reverence done to this Revelation in the Flesh. We touch Heaven when we lay our hand on a human body!

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