De Quincey Memorials: Being Letters and Other Records, Here First Published. With Communications from Coleridge, the Wordsworths, Hannah More, Professor Wilson, and Others, Volume 2W. Heinman, 1891 |
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De Quincey Memorials: Being Letters and Other Records, Here First ..., Volume 1 Alexander Hay Japp,Thomas De Quincey Pratinjau tidak tersedia - 2016 |
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21 BEDFORD STREET able affec affectionate Mother Ambleside appear beautiful believe bill Blackwood's Magazine Brislington Bristol Brockley Brother Children Coleridge crown 8vo DEAR BROTHER,-I dear De Quincey Edinburgh Elleray essay Everton expect fear feel friends give glad Grasmere Hamilton Hannah hear heard heart honour hope interest JOHN WILSON Kant Kelsall Kendal kind Lasswade letter live London Manchester Mary Dawson means mind Miss months morning never night o'er opium Oxford Paper Patrick Brontë perhaps philosophy pleasure Pray present promised Quincey's Quintilian received remember Richard Samuel Taylor Coleridge Saturday sent sister soon spirit suppose tell things Thomas de Quincey THOS thought tion to-day to-morrow told truly Uncle University Album Volume week Westhay Westmoreland whole Wilson wish word Wordsworth WRINGTON write written young
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Halaman 254 - Life, and life's effluence, cloud at once and shower, Joy, Lady! is the spirit and the power, Which wedding Nature to us gives in dower, A new Earth and new Heaven, Undreamt of by the sensual and the proud — Joy is the sweet voice, Joy the luminous cloud — We in ourselves rejoice ! And thence flows all that charms or ear or sight, All melodies the echoes of that voice, All colours a suffusion from that light.
Halaman 252 - My shaping spirit of Imagination. For not to think of what I needs must feel, But to be still and patient, all I can; And haply by abstruse research to steal From my own nature all the natural man — This was my sole resource, my only plan : Till that which suits a part infects the whole, And now is almost grown the habit of my soul.
Halaman 254 - There was a time when, though my path was rough, This joy within me dallied with distress, And all misfortunes were but as the stuff Whence Fancy made me dreams of happiness : For hope grew round me, like the twining vine, And fruits, and foliage, not my own, seemed mine. But now afflictions bow me down to earth : Nor care I that they rob me of my mirth, But oh ! each visitation Suspends what nature gave me at my birth, Jly shaping spirit of Imagination.
Halaman 250 - Nothing at all. What do you learn from a cookery-book? Something new, something that you did not know before, in every paragraph. But would you therefore put the wretched cookery-book on a higher level of estimation than the divine poem? What you owe to Milton is not any knowledge, of which a million separate items are still but a million of advancing steps on the same earthly level; what you owe is power, - that is, exercise and expansion to your own latent capacity of sympathy with the infinite,...
Halaman 250 - ... what you owe, is power, that is, exercise and expansion to your own latent capacity of sympathy with the infinite, where every pulse and each separate! influx is a step upwards — a step ascending as upon a' Jacob's ladder from earth to mysterious altitudes above the earth. All the steps of knowledge, from first to last, carry you further on the same plane, but could never raise you one foot above your ancient level of earth : whereas, the very first step in power is a flight — is an ascending...
Halaman 208 - Ellis and Acton Bell, and myself, heedless of the repeated warnings of various respectable publishers, have committed the rash act of printing a volume of poems. The consequences predicted have, of course, overtaken us: our book is found to be a drug; no man needs it or heeds it. In the space of a year our publisher has disposed but of two copies, and by what painful efforts he succeeded in getting rid of these two, himself only knows.
Halaman 254 - Maenad — made her snatch a brand And fire some forest, that her rage might mount In crashing roaring flames through half a land, Leaving her still and patient for a while. " Poor wretch ! " she says, of any murderess — " The world was cruel, and she could not sing : I carry my revenges in my throat ; I love in singing, and am loved again.
Halaman 9 - They are as venomous as the poison of a serpent, even like the deaf adder, that stoppeth her ears; 5 Which refuseth to hear the voice of the charmer, charm he never so wisely.
Halaman 248 - ... easy to follow this up with a long list of critical enormities on De Quincey's part, enormities due not to accidental and casual crotchet or prejudice, as in Hazlitt's case, but apparently to some perverse idiosyncrasy. I doubt very much, though the doubt may seem horribly heretical to some people, whether De Quincey really cared much for poetry as poetry. He liked philosophical poets: — Milton, Wordsworth, Shakespeare (inasmuch as he perceived Shakespeare to be the greatest of philosophical...
Halaman 251 - was silenced for ever by the torment of opium. But proportionably it roused and stung by misery his metaphysical instincts into more spasmodic life. Poetry can flourish only in the atmosphere of happiness. But subtle and perplexed investigations of difficult problems are amongst the commonest resources for beguiling the sense of misery.