I
Eden
“There is not a rift in the blue sky now,
Where a million tempests tore it;
There is not a furrow on Ocean’s brow,
Tho’ a million years have past o'er it.
And for all the storms and the strifes that have rufl’d
Down the ages grim and gory;
Earth weareth her pleasant face, as of old,
And laughs in her morning glory.
And Man—tho’ he beareth the brand of Sin,
And the flesh and the devil have bound him—
Hath a spirit within, to old Eden akin,
Only nurture up Eden around him.
O the cloud may have fall'n on the human face,
And its lordliest beauty blighted;
For love hath gone out with a dark'ning trace,..."
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Eden
“There is not a rift in the blue sky now,
Where a million tempests tore it;
There is not a furrow on Ocean’s brow,
Tho’ a million years have past o'er it.
And for all the storms and the strifes that have rufl’d
Down the ages grim and gory;
Earth weareth her pleasant face, as of old,
And laughs in her morning glory.
And Man—tho’ he beareth the brand of Sin,
And the flesh and the devil have bound him—
Hath a spirit within, to old Eden akin,
Only nurture up Eden around him.
O the cloud may have fall'n on the human face,
And its lordliest beauty blighted;
For love hath gone out with a dark'ning trace,..."
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II
"...Where the inward glory lighted.
Yet the old world of love liveth still in the heart,
As we’ve many a sweet revealing:
And its rich fossil-jewels in tears will up-start
With the warm flood of holier feeling.
Ay, Man—tho’ he beareth the brand of Sin,
And the flesh and the devil have bound him—
Hath a spirit within, to old Eden akin,
Only nurture up Eden around him
O the terrors, the tortures, the miseries dark
That have curst us, and crusht, and cankered!
Yet, aye, from the Deluge, Humanity’s Ark
Hath on some serene Ararat anchored.
O the golden chains that link heaven to earth,
The rusts of all time cannot sever!
Evil shall die in its own dark dearth,
And the Good liveth on for ever.
And Man—tho’ he beareth the brand of Sin,
And the flesh and the devil have bound him—
Hath a spirit within, to old Eden akin,
Only nurture up Eden around him.”
~Gerald Massey
IMPERIVM
"...Where the inward glory lighted.
Yet the old world of love liveth still in the heart,
As we’ve many a sweet revealing:
And its rich fossil-jewels in tears will up-start
With the warm flood of holier feeling.
Ay, Man—tho’ he beareth the brand of Sin,
And the flesh and the devil have bound him—
Hath a spirit within, to old Eden akin,
Only nurture up Eden around him
O the terrors, the tortures, the miseries dark
That have curst us, and crusht, and cankered!
Yet, aye, from the Deluge, Humanity’s Ark
Hath on some serene Ararat anchored.
O the golden chains that link heaven to earth,
The rusts of all time cannot sever!
Evil shall die in its own dark dearth,
And the Good liveth on for ever.
And Man—tho’ he beareth the brand of Sin,
And the flesh and the devil have bound him—
Hath a spirit within, to old Eden akin,
Only nurture up Eden around him.”
~Gerald Massey
IMPERIVM
Forwarded from ELYSIVM
"Wonderful how completely everything in wild nature fits into us, as if truly part and parent of us. The sun shines not on us, but in us. The rivers flow not past, but through us, thrilling, tingling, vibrating every fiber and cell of the substance of our bodies, making them glide and sing."
John Muir
John Muir
"Everything that comes to be has some beginning, but what is eternal, being ungenerated did not have a beginning. But if it does not have a beginning it is unlimited, and if it is unlimited it is nowhere. For if it is anywhere, that in which it is is different from it, and so what-is will no longer be unlimited, since it is enclosed in something. … And so, if what-is is eternal it is unlimited, but if it is unlimited it is nowhere, and if it is nowhere it is not. So if what-is is eternal, it is not at all."
~Gorgias
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~Gorgias
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"To be a philosopher, that is to say, a lover of wisdom (for wisdom is nothing but truth), it is not enough for a man to love truth, in so far as it is compatible with his own interest, with the will of his superiors, with the dogmas of the church, or with the prejudices and tastes of his contemporaries; so long as he rests content with this position, he is only a philautos [a lover of self], not a philosophos [a lover of wisdom]."
~Arthur Schopenhauer
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~Arthur Schopenhauer
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