text,updated_at,metaphor,created_at,context,theme,reviewed_on,dictionary,comments,provenance,id,work_id
"These Reflections oppress'd me for the second or third Day of my Distemper, and in the Violence, as well of the Fever, as of the dreadful Reproaches of my Conscience, extorted some Words from me, like praying to God, tho' I cannot say they were either a Prayer attended with Desires or with Hopes; it was rather the Voice of meer Fright and Distress; my Thoughts were confus'd, the Convictions great upon my Mind, and the Horror of dying in such a miserable Condition, rais'd Vapours into my Head with the meer Apprehensions; and in these Hurries of my Soul, I know not what my Tongue might express; but it was rather Exclamation, such as, Lord! what a miserable Creature am I? If I should be sick, I shall certainly die for want of Help, and what will become of me! Then the Tears burst out of my Eyes, and I could say no more for a good while.
(pp. 105-6)",2011-04-26 17:40:36 UTC,"""These Reflections oppress'd me for the second or third Day of my Distemper, and in the Violence, as well of the Fever, as of the dreadful Reproaches of my Conscience, extorted some Words from me, like praying to God, tho' I cannot say they were either a Prayer attended with Desires or with Hopes; it was rather the Voice of meer Fright and Distress; my Thoughts were confus'd, the Convictions great upon my Mind, and the Horror of dying in such a miserable Condition, rais'd Vapours into my Head with the meer Apprehensions; and in these Hurries of my Soul, I know not what my Tongue might express; but it was rather Exclamation, such as, Lord! what a miserable Creature am I?""",2004-01-13 00:00:00 UTC,"","",,"","",HDIS,11123,4269
"These were the Subject of the first Night's Cogitation, after I was come home again, while the Apprehensions which had so over-run my Mind were fresh upon me, and my Head was full of Vapours, as above. Thus Fear of Danger is ten thousand times more terrifying than Danger it self, when apparent to the Eyes; and we find the Burthen of Anxiety greater by much, than the Evil which we are anxious about; and, which was worse than all this, I had not that Relief in this Trouble from the Resignation I used to practise, that I hop'd to have. I look'd, I thought, like Saul, who complain'd not only that the Philistines were upon him, but that God had forsaken him; for I did not now take due Ways to compose my Mind , by crying to God in my Distress, and resting upon his Providence, as I had done before, for my Defence and Deliverance; which if I had done, I had, at least, been more cheerfully supported under this new Surprize, and perhaps carry'd through it with more Resolution.
(pp. 188-9)",2011-06-07 16:07:00 UTC,"""These were the Subject of the first Night's Cogitation, after I was come home again, while the Apprehensions which had so over-run my Mind were fresh upon me, and my Head was full of Vapours, as above.""",2004-01-13 00:00:00 UTC,"","",2011-06-07,"","",Searching in HDIS (Prose),11125,4269
"The Thoughts of this sometimes sunk my very Soul within me, and distress'd my Mind so much that I could not soon recover it, to think what I should have done, and how I not only should not have been able to resist them, but even should not have had Presence of Mind enough to do what I might have done; much less, what now after so much Consideration and Preparation I might be able to do: Indeed, after serious thinking of these Things, I should be very melancholy, and sometimes it would last a great while; but I resolv'd it at last all into Thankfulness to that Providence, which had deliver'd me from so many unseen Dangers, and had kept me from those Mischiefs which I could no way have been the Agent in delivering my self from; because I had not the least notion of any such thing depending, or the least Supposition of it being possible.
(pp. 206-7)",2011-06-07 04:41:47 UTC,"""The Thoughts of this sometimes sunk my very Soul within me, and distress'd my Mind so much that I could not soon recover it, to think what I should have done, and how I not only should not have been able to resist them, but even should not have had Presence of Mind enough to do what I might have done; much less, what now after so much Consideration and Preparation I might be able to do.""",2004-01-13 00:00:00 UTC,"","",,"",•Is this a ship metaphor? (The soul sinks in the fluid of the self?!),HDIS (Prose),11128,4269
"But I was not content with this Discovery, but having now more Courage, and consequently more Curiosity, I takes my Man Friday with me, giving him the Sword in his Hand, with the Bow and Arrows at his Back, which I found he could use very dextrously, making him carry one Gun for me, and I two for myself, and away we march'd to the Place, where these Creatures had been; for I had a Mind now to get some fuller Intelligence of them: When I came to the Place, my very Blood ran chill in my Veins, and my Heart sunk within me at the Horror of the Spectacle: Indeed it was a dreadful Sight, at least it was so to me, tho' Friday made nothing of it: The Place was cover'd with human Bones, the Ground dy'd with their Blood, great Pieces of Flesh left here and there, half eaten, mangled and scorch'd; and, in short, all the Tokens of the triumphant Feast they had been making there, after a Victory over their Enemies: I saw three Skulls, five Hands, and the Bones of three or four Legs and Feet, and abundance of other Parts of the Bodies; and Friday by his Signs, made me understand, that they brought over four Prisoners to feast upon, that three of them were eaten up, and that he, pointing to himself, was the fourth: That there had been a great Battle between them, and their next King, whose Subjects, it seems, he had been one of; and that they had taken a great Number of Prisoners, all which were carry'd to several Places by those that had taken them in the Fight, in order to feast upon them, as was done here by these Wretches upon those they brought hither.
(pp. 245-6)",2011-06-07 18:18:02 UTC,"""When I came to the Place, my very Blood ran chill in my Veins, and my Heart sunk within me at the Horror of the Spectacle.""",2004-01-13 00:00:00 UTC,"","",2011-06-07,"","",HDIS (Prose),11142,4269
"I was so amaz'd with the Thing it self, having never felt the like, or discoursed with any one that had, that I was like one dead or stupify'd; and the Motion of the Earth made my Stomach sick, like one that was toss'd at Sea; but the Noise of the falling of the Rock awak'd me, as it were, and rouzing me from the stupified Condition I was in, fill'd me with Horror, and I thought of nothing then but the Hill falling upon my Tent, and all my Houshold Goods, and burying all at once; and this sunk my very Soul within me a second time.
(p. 94)",2011-06-07 04:43:21 UTC,"""I thought of nothing then but the Hill falling upon my Tent, and all my Houshold Goods, and burying all at once; and this sunk my very Soul within me a second time.""",2004-01-14 00:00:00 UTC,"","",,"","",HDIS (Prose),11143,4269
"I had slept well in the Night, and was now no more Sea sick, but very chearful, looking with Wonder upon the Sea that was so rough and terrible the Day before, and could be so calm and so pleasant in so little time after. And now least my good Resolutions should continue, my Companion, who had indeed entic'd me away, comes to me, Well Bob, says he, clapping me upon the Shoulder, How do you do after it? I warrant you were frighted, wa'n't you last Night, when it blew but a Cap full of? A Cap full d'you call it? said I, 'twas a terrible Storm: A Storm, you Fool you, replies he, do you call that a Storm, why it was nothing at all; give us but a good Ship and Sea-room, and we think nothing of such a Squal of Wind as that; but you're but a fresh Water Saillor, Bob; come let us make a Bowl of Punch and we'll forget all that; d'ye see what charming Weather 'tis now? To make short this sad Part of my Story, we went the old way of all Sailors, the Punch was made, and I was made drunk with it, and in that one Night's Wickedness I drowned all my Repentance, all my Reflections upon my past Conduct, and all my Resolutions for my future. In a word, as the Sea was returned to its Smoothness of Surface and settled Calmness by the Abatement of that Storm, so the Hurry of my Thoughts being over, my Fears and Apprehensions of being swallow'd up by the Sea being forgotten, and the Current of my former Desires return'd, I entirely forgot the Vows and Promises that I made in my Distress. I found indeed some Intervals of Reflection, and the serious Thoughts did, as it were, endeavour to return again sometimes, but I shook them off, and rouz'd my self from them as it were from a Distemper, and applying my self to Drinking and Company, soon master'd the Return of those Fits, for so I call'd them, and I had in five or six Days got as compleat a Victory over Conscience as any young Fellow that resolv'd not to be troubled with it, could desire: But I was to have another Trial for it still; and Providence, as in such Cases generally it does, resolv'd to leave me entirely without Excuse. For if I would not take this for a Deliverance, the next was to be such a one as the worst and most harden'd Wretch among us would confess both the Danger and the Mercy.
(pp. 8-9)",2011-06-07 05:52:19 UTC,"""In a word, as the Sea was returned to its Smoothness of Surface and settled Calmness by the Abatement of that Storm, so the Hurry of my Thoughts being over, my Fears and Apprehensions of being swallow'd up by the Sea being forgotten, and the Current of my former Desires return'd, I entirely forgot the Vows and Promises that I made in my Distress.""",2004-01-14 00:00:00 UTC,"","",2011-06-07,"","",HDIS (Prose),11146,4269
"This is what I quote them for, and this is all my Argument demands; the deepest Search into the Region of Cause and Consequence, has found out just enough to leave the wisest Philosopher in the dark, to bewilder his Head, and drown his Understanding. You raise a Storm in Nature by the very Inquiry; and at last, to be rid of you, she confesses the Truth, and tells you, It is not in Me, you must go Home and ask my Father.
(p. 12)",2013-06-17 21:15:23 UTC,"""This is what I quote them for, and this is all my Argument demands; the deepest Search into the Region of Cause and Consequence, has found out just enough to leave the wisest Philosopher in the dark, to bewilder his Head, and drown his Understanding.""",2013-06-17 21:15:23 UTC,"","",,"","",Searching in C-H Lion,20913,7473
"Wit, like a hasty Flood, may over-run us,
And too much Sense has oftentimes undone us:
Wit is a Flux, a Looseness of the Brain,
And Sense-abstract has too much Pride to reign:
Wit-unconcoct is the Extream of Sloth,
And too much Sense is the Extream of both;
Abstracted-Wit 'Tis own'd is a Disease,
But Sense-abstracted has no Power to please:
For Sense, like Water, is but Wit condense,
And Wit, like Air, is rarify'd from Sense:
Meer Sense is sullen; stiff, and unpolite,
Meer Wit is Apoplectick, thin, and light:
Wit is a King without a Parliament,
And Sense a Democratick Government:
Wit, like the French, wher'e'er it reigns destroys,
And Sense advanc'd is apt to Tyrannize:
Wit without Sense is like the Laughing-Evil,
And Sense unmix'd with Fancy is the D---l.
Wit is a Standing-Army Government,
And Sense a sullen stubborn P---t:
Wit by its haste anticipates its Fate,
And so does Sense by being obstinate:
Wit without Sense in Verse is all but Farce,
Sense without Wit in Verse is all mine A---.
Wit, like the French, performs before it thinks,
And thoughtful Sense without Performance sinks;
Sense without Wit is Flegmatick and pale,
And is all Head, forsooth, without a Tail:
Wit without Sense is Cholerick and Red,
Has Tail enough indeed, but has no Head.
Wit, like the jangling Chimes, rings all in one,
Till Sense, the Artist, sets them into Tune:
Wit, like the Belly, if it be not fed,
Will starve the Members, and distract the Head.
Wit is the Fruitful Womb where Thoughts conceive,
Sense is the Vital Heat which Life and Form must give:
Wit is the Teeming Mother brings them forth,
Sense is the Active Father gives them Worth.
United: Wit and Sense, makes Science thrive,
Divided: neither Wit nor Sense can live;
For while the Parties eagerly contend,
The Mortal Strife must in their mutual Ruin end.
(pp. 165-7, ll. 353-394)",2013-09-18 14:48:49 UTC,"""Wit, like a hasty Flood, may over-run us, / And too much Sense has oftentimes undone us.""",2013-09-18 14:31:26 UTC,"","",,"","FOUND and FIXED TYPOS in C-H Lion transcription: ""rarisy'd"" and ""advant'd""",Reading,22791,7682
"Wit, like a hasty Flood, may over-run us,
And too much Sense has oftentimes undone us:
Wit is a Flux, a Looseness of the Brain,
And Sense-abstract has too much Pride to reign:
Wit-unconcoct is the Extream of Sloth,
And too much Sense is the Extream of both;
Abstracted-Wit 'Tis own'd is a Disease,
But Sense-abstracted has no Power to please:
For Sense, like Water, is but Wit condense,
And Wit, like Air, is rarify'd from Sense:
Meer Sense is sullen; stiff, and unpolite,
Meer Wit is Apoplectick, thin, and light:
Wit is a King without a Parliament,
And Sense a Democratick Government:
Wit, like the French, wher'e'er it reigns destroys,
And Sense advanc'd is apt to Tyrannize:
Wit without Sense is like the Laughing-Evil,
And Sense unmix'd with Fancy is the D---l.
Wit is a Standing-Army Government,
And Sense a sullen stubborn P---t:
Wit by its haste anticipates its Fate,
And so does Sense by being obstinate:
Wit without Sense in Verse is all but Farce,
Sense without Wit in Verse is all mine A---.
Wit, like the French, performs before it thinks,
And thoughtful Sense without Performance sinks;
Sense without Wit is Flegmatick and pale,
And is all Head, forsooth, without a Tail:
Wit without Sense is Cholerick and Red,
Has Tail enough indeed, but has no Head.
Wit, like the jangling Chimes, rings all in one,
Till Sense, the Artist, sets them into Tune:
Wit, like the Belly, if it be not fed,
Will starve the Members, and distract the Head.
Wit is the Fruitful Womb where Thoughts conceive,
Sense is the Vital Heat which Life and Form must give:
Wit is the Teeming Mother brings them forth,
Sense is the Active Father gives them Worth.
United: Wit and Sense, makes Science thrive,
Divided: neither Wit nor Sense can live;
For while the Parties eagerly contend,
The Mortal Strife must in their mutual Ruin end.
(pp. 165-7, ll. 353-394)",2013-09-18 14:49:18 UTC,"""Wit is a Flux, a Looseness of the Brain, / And Sense-abstract has too much Pride to reign.""",2013-09-18 14:33:58 UTC,"","",,"","OED: ""An abnormally copious flowing of blood, excrement, etc. from the bowels or other organs; a morbid or excessive discharge. spec. An early name for dysentery; also †red flux, †flux of blood, bloody flux (see main entry).""",Reading,22792,7682
"Wit, like a hasty Flood, may over-run us,
And too much Sense has oftentimes undone us:
Wit is a Flux, a Looseness of the Brain,
And Sense-abstract has too much Pride to reign:
Wit-unconcoct is the Extream of Sloth,
And too much Sense is the Extream of both;
Abstracted-Wit 'Tis own'd is a Disease,
But Sense-abstracted has no Power to please:
For Sense, like Water, is but Wit condense,
And Wit, like Air, is rarify'd from Sense:
Meer Sense is sullen; stiff, and unpolite,
Meer Wit is Apoplectick, thin, and light:
Wit is a King without a Parliament,
And Sense a Democratick Government:
Wit, like the French, wher'e'er it reigns destroys,
And Sense advant'd is apt to Tyrannize:
Wit without Sense is like the Laughing-Evil,
And Sense unmix'd with Fancy is the D---l.
Wit is a Standing-Army Government,
And Sense a sullen stubborn P---t:
Wit by its haste anticipates its Fate,
And so does Sense by being obstinate:
Wit without Sense in Verse is all but Farce,
Sense without Wit in Verse is all mine A---.
Wit, like the French, performs before it thinks,
And thoughtful Sense without Performance sinks;
Sense without Wit is Flegmatick and pale,
And is all Head, forsooth, without a Tail:
Wit without Sense is Cholerick and Red,
Has Tail enough indeed, but has no Head.
Wit, like the jangling Chimes, rings all in one,
Till Sense, the Artist, sets them into Tune:
Wit, like the Belly, if it be not fed,
Will starve the Members, and distract the Head.
Wit is the Fruitful Womb where Thoughts conceive,
Sense is the Vital Heat which Life and Form must give:
Wit is the Teeming Mother brings them forth,
Sense is the Active Father gives them Worth.
United: Wit and Sense, makes Science thrive,
Divided: neither Wit nor Sense can live;
For while the Parties eagerly contend,
The Mortal Strife must in their mutual Ruin end.
(pp. 165-7, ll. 353-394)",2013-09-18 14:40:28 UTC,"""For Sense, like Water, is but Wit condense, / And Wit, like Air, is rarify'd from Sense.""",2013-09-18 14:37:46 UTC,"","",,"","FIXING TYPO in C-H Lion: ""rarisy'd""",Reading,22794,7682