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Page 93 of 1231911 · PDF PAGE 140
…cry is an intolerable anguish, yet it is the cry of their rapture, so that every pain, and every curse, and every bereavement, and every death of everything in the whole universe, is but one little gust of wind in that tempest-scream of ecstasy. The voice thereof is not articulate. It is in vain to seek comparison. It is absolutely continuous, without breaks or beats. If there seem to be vibration therein, it is because of the imperfection of the ears of the seer. And there cometh an interior voice, which sayeth to the seer that he hath trained…
1911 · PDF PAGE 167
…ed up in a forest of un- quenchable fire, and fearlessly through it all a snow-white eagle flies. And the eagle cries: the house also of death. Come away! The volume of the book is open, the Angel wait- eth without, for the summer is at hand. Come away! For the Aeon is measured, and thy span allotted. Come away! For the mighty sounds have entered into every angle. And they have awakened the Angels of the Aethyrs that slept these three hundred years. For in the Holy letter Shin, that is the Resurrection in the Book of Thoth, that is the Holy Spi…
1913 · PDF PAGE 159
…poison of life. Fifty are the gates of under- standing, and one hundred and six are the seasons thereof. And the name of every season is death. During all this speech, the figure of the angel has dwindled and flickered, and now it is gone out. And I come back in the body, rushing like a flame in a great wind. And the shew-stone has become warm, and in it is its own light. Bou-saada, December 3, 1909. 9.50-11.15 pr. Comment on this cry can but profane it, yet it is necessary to emphasize the very peculiar nature of the attain- 119
1913 · PDF PAGE 305
… humanity; charity proves by its works that it is not a dream. It is stronger than all the passions; it triumphs over suffering and over death; it makes God understood by every heart, and seems already to fill eternity by the begun realization of its legitimate hopes. Before charity alive and in action who is the Proudhon who dares blaspheme? Who is the Voltaire who dares laugh? Pile one upon the other the sophisms of Diderot, the critical arguments of Strauss, the “ Ruins” of Volney, so well named, for this man could make nothing but “ruins,” …
1913 · PDF PAGE 159
…poison of life. Fifty are the gates of under- standing, and one hundred and six are the seasons thereof. And the name of every season is death. During all this speech, the figure of the angel has dwindled and flickered, and now it is gone out. And I come back in the body, rushing like a flame in a great wind. And the shew-stone has become warm, and in it is its own light. Bou-saada, December 3, 1909. 9.50-11.15 pr. Comment on this cry can but profane it, yet it is necessary to emphasize the very peculiar nature of the attain- 119
1913 · PDF PAGE 305
… humanity; charity proves by its works that it is not a dream. It is stronger than all the passions; it triumphs over suffering and over death; it makes God understood by every heart, and seems already to fill eternity by the begun realization of its legitimate hopes. Before charity alive and in action who is the Proudhon who dares blaspheme? Who is the Voltaire who dares laugh? Pile one upon the other the sophisms of Diderot, the critical arguments of Strauss, the “ Ruins” of Volney, so well named, for this man could make nothing but “ruins,” …
1954 · PDF PAGE 450
…periments; in short, by the follies and crimes of men of genius, only recognizable as wisdom and virtue after they have been tortured to death, and their murderers reap gloatingly the harvest of the seeds they sowed at midnight. Damn it! All this is so trite that I am half ashamed to write it; and yet-everyone acquiesces with a smile, and goes off to vote another set of fetters for his feet! Sin? This is the sin of sins: Restriction . All boots from the one last ; all beautifully polished on parade; the March of Time will find not much but hobb…
1907 · PDF PAGE 118
…o my own guts the glutted knife! 0 Satan! stand morose and cold above our bodies swimming thus And plunge thy glory into us, and fan our death with plumes of gold! Write with our blood before thee spilt on catafalque and catacomb The dire monition of our doom, the story of the Mask of Gilt! The paradox is right, by Heaven! exclaimed the big man. That poem is bad enough, but a long explanation—qui rexcuxe .s’accure. Better look for God in the filth itself than in the lame excuse for it! I once knew people as mad as that, said the Doctor. They wer…
1907 · PDF PAGE 11
4 THE STAR IN THE WEST depths of Hell , to sink into a dirge -like Niobe death chaunt ,bewailing the thirteen children of their beget ting , rising once more in the song of Ligeia , enticing men to her mire , and at length to die still -voiced as the daughter of Dis, whose ghostly fingers sinking clutch the frozen reeds of that slough in which she had so long wallowed . Long have we peered , crouching on the watch-tower of our minds , through the darkness of ignorance lit alone by the northern lights of folly , till our scorched eyes falling as…
1907 · PDF PAGE 93
… again , “ I love you , and shall love you till I die .” “ I love you , and shall love you life .” “ I love you and shall love you after death .” This is the Higher Love ; and so ends one of the greatest poems of true and pure love ever written , musical as the breath of stormy Aeolus . Fas cinated we read its verses again and again , dazzled with their mystic beauty , their harmony , and , above all , their intense human love . As the Editor says , those who fail to find religion in such poems must indeed be idiots , idiots who would bowdleriz…
1910 · PDF PAGE 284
…ut in one instant all sense, thought, and being. In an instant I felt my life extinguisned, but knew that it was by annihilation, not by death. When I awoke out of the hasheesh state I was as over- whelmed to find myself still in existence as a dead man of the last century could be were he now suddenly restored to earth. For a while, even in perfect consciousness, I believed I was still dreaming, and to this dayI have so little lost the memory of that one demoniac toll, that while writing these lines I have put my hand to my forehead, hearing a…
1910 · PDF PAGE 284
…ut in one instant all sense, thought, and being. In an instant I felt my life extinguisned, but knew that it was by annihilation, not by death. When I awoke out of the hasheesh state I was as over- whelmed to find myself still in existence as a dead man of the last century could be were he now suddenly restored to earth. For a while, even in perfect consciousness, I believed I was still dreaming, and to this dayI have so little lost the memory of that one demoniac toll, that while writing these lines I have put my hand to my forehead, hearing a…
1922 · PDF PAGE 228
… Rosicructan’s predictions come true ; and he himself goes up in a flame like the Salamander he has been invoking. He looks upon hts own death as the crown of his career—the climax towards whtch he has been working. Anatole France is, in fact, compelled to write as tf the Rosicructan theories were correct, although his conscious self ts busily exposing the absurdity of magic. It looks as if the artist’s true self were convinced of the actuality of magic, and insisted on expressing itself despite every effort of the sceptscal intellect to turn t…
1906 · PDF PAGE 150
…eories OF ors I, you, or Simpkin * can get on without it! Browning’s "If life’s task be work and love’s (the soft-lippéd) ease, summary. Death’s be God’s glory ? discuss with Euripides ! 30 * The numbered notes are given at p. 190. + Bacon, ‘‘ Essay on Truth,” line 1. + ‘‘ Childe Roland to the dark Tower came.’ —BROWNING. 144
1912 · PDF PAGE 109
DOCTOR BOB of the drawn faces, and the ghastly stare into the eyes of Death! Think of their ears strained if perhaps they may hear his stealthy tread l Their tongues licking their parched lips—oh, is there no hope? Then, at least, is there no mercy? Dr. F. I should be inclined to deceive them nearly always I’m sending him a girl this afternoon. Hang it! I must have his opinion, and yet Ι hesitated—long—over the wisdom of the course I was taking. She hasn’t any idea of how seriously ill she is; the shock might kill her. I begged him in my note t…
1912 · PDF PAGE 109
DOCTOR BOB of the drawn faces, and the ghastly stare into the eyes of Death! Think of their ears strained if perhaps they may hear his stealthy tread l Their tongues licking their parched lips—oh, is there no hope? Then, at least, is there no mercy? Dr. F. I should be inclined to deceive them nearly always I’m sending him a girl this afternoon. Hang it! I must have his opinion, and yet Ι hesitated—long—over the wisdom of the course I was taking. She hasn’t any idea of how seriously ill she is; the shock might kill her. I begged him in my note t…
1919 · PDF PAGE 230
… the great benefit that he hath received from the Order by bestowing upon it part or the whole of his goods, as he may deem fit. 34. The death of a Brother is not to be an occasion of melancholy, but of rejoicing; the Brethren of his Lodge shall gather together and make a banquet with music and dancing and all manner of gladness. It is of the greatest importance that this shall be done, for thereby the inherited 216
1929 · PDF PAGE 469
…o climb the Alps, this time by an attack of phlebitis. I lay six weeks in bed, warned that the slightest movement might result in sudden death, and advised that in all probability I should never be able to climb a mountain again. The period of my illness covered September and most of October 1914. At that time any man who suggested the advisability of conscription was regarded as a traitor. Conscription was the very thing we were fighting. Austin Harrison said that we were fighting for our golf and our weekends, Raymond Radclyffe said with, as …
1905 · PDF PAGE 64
…dered. SCENES, Piercy. J, THE ANGEL oF Pity. I am sad to-night. I am very lonely in Tl. ‘Tum ANGEL OF LOVE. this place. If. THe ANGEL OF DEATH. IV. ‘THe FORM OF ‘THE FOURTIL WAS LIKE VAUGHAN. THE S ¥ Gop.! , THE SON OF Go Chere are plenty of people about. PERSONS. PERCY. PERCY BRANDON (a Poet) People—mere shells, husks of the golden Esmé VAUGHAN. Wheat that might grow even here. Mr. VAUGHAN (her father). Mr. BRANDON (father of Percy). VAUGHAN. A FRIEND TO VAUGIIAN, Why do you stay here? Butler, Footmen, etc., etc. y y y PERCY, SCENE I. I cannot…
1907 · PDF PAGE 200
… ALECYro. He thunders ! TISIPHONE. His lightnings split the living rock. MEGAERA. Hell sunders The livid walls and iron-bound prisons of death. HADEs. Thus ! to your towers and wail ! ALECTO. He speaks ! TISIPHONE. His breath Is cold as ours. HADES. Depart! Due silence keep, Lest I enchain ye in a fouler deep Than aught your horror pictures ! MEGARA. Dost thou hear, Sister ? ALECTO. Sweet sister !