work_id,theme,provenance,created_at,text,reviewed_on,id,comments,metaphor,dictionary,updated_at,context
3204,"","Reading Paul S. MacDonald History of the Concept of Mind (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2003), 327. Macdonald cites The Selected Works of Gassendi, ed. and trans. Craig B. Bush (New York and London: Johnson Reprint Corporation, 1972), 421.",2004-02-16 00:00:00 UTC,"The soul seems to be like a little flame or a most attenuated kind of fire, which thrives or remains kindled while the animal lives, since if it no longer thrives or is put out, the animal dies.
(p. 327 in Macdonald)",2007-04-26,8429,"•REVISIT: I cannot find the metaphor in the cited edition. MacDonald claims to be quoting from the last chapter of the Syntagma Philosophicum.
• Citation is still missing. MacDonald seems guilty of allowing a typo to sneak in here? See The Selected Works of Gassendi. Ed. and trans. Craig B. Bush. New York and London: Johnson Reprint Corporation, 1972. p. 421. I cannot find the metaphor in that edition, and I can't tell which title is here referred to.","""The soul seems to be like a little flame or a most attenuated kind of fire, which thrives or remains kindled while the animal lives, since if it no longer thrives or is put out, the animal dies.""","",2012-02-03 21:10:32 UTC,""
3568,Negated Metaphor,Past Masters,2003-10-03 00:00:00 UTC,"I am, then, in the strict sense only a thing that thinks; that is, I am a mind, or intelligence, or intellect, or reason - words whose meaning I have been ignorant of until now. But for all that I am a thing which is real and which truly exists. But what kind of a thing? As I have just said - a thinking thing.
What else am I? I will use my imagination. I am not that structure of limbs which is called a human body. I am not even some thin vapour which permeates the limbs - a wind, fire, air, breath, or whatever I depict in my imagination; for these are things which I have supposed to be nothing. Let this supposition stand; for all that I am still something. And yet may it not perhaps be the case that these very things which I am supposing to be nothing, because they are unknown to me, are in reality identical with the 'I' of which I am aware? I do not know, and for the moment I shall not argue the point, since I can make judgements only about things which are known to me. I know that I exist; the question is, what is this 'I' that I know? If the 'I' is understood strictly as we have been taking it, then it is quite certain that knowledge of it does not depend on things of whose existence I am as yet unaware; so it cannot depend on any of the things which I invent in my imagination. And this very word 'invent' shows me my mistake. It would indeed be a case of fictitious invention if I used my imagination to establish that I was something or other; for imagining is simply contemplating the shape or image of a corporeal thing. Yet now I know for certain both that I exist and at the same time that all such images and, in general, everything relating to the nature of body, could be mere dreams {and chimeras}. Once this point has been grasped, to say 'I will use my imagination to get to know more distinctly what I am' would seem to be as silly as saying 'I am now awake, and see some truth; but since my vision is not yet clear enough, I will deliberately fall asleep so that my dreams may provide a truer and clearer representation.' I thus realize that none of the things that the imagination enables me to grasp is at all relevant to this knowledge of myself which I possess, and that the mind must therefore be most carefully diverted from such things if it is to perceive its own nature as distinctly as possible.
(Second Meditation, p. 18-19)",2004-01-24,9236,"•Fascinating anti-metaphorical moment. I am not.. ""thin vapour,"" ""wind,"" ""fire,"" ""air,"" ""breath,"" or whatever is depicted in the imagination. INTEREST.
•In fact, ""none of the things that the imagination enables me to grasp is at all relevant to this knowledge of myself which I possess""","""I am not that structure of limbs which is called a human body. I am not even some thin vapour which permeates the limbs - a wind, fire, air, breath, or whatever I depict in my imagination; for these are things which I have supposed to be nothing.""","",2010-07-01 20:06:19 UTC,Second Meditation
3590,"",Distributed Proofreaders text: produced by Karl Hagen and D. Moynihan.,2006-09-21 00:00:00 UTC,"In the precedent subsections I have anatomised those inferior faculties of the soul; the rational remaineth, a pleasant, but a doubtful subject (as [994] one terms it), and with the like brevity to be discussed. Many erroneous opinions are about the essence and original of it; whether it be fire, as Zeno held; harmony, as Aristoxenus; number, as Xenocrates; whether it be organical, or inorganical; seated in the brain, heart or blood; mortal or immortal; how it comes into the body. Some hold that it is ex traduce, as Phil. 1. de Anima, Tertullian, Lactantius de opific. Dei, cap. 19. Hugo, lib. de Spiritu et Anima, Vincentius Bellavic. spec. natural. lib. 23. cap. 2. et 11. Hippocrates, Avicenna, and many [995] late writers; that one man begets another, body and soul; or as a candle from a candle, to be produced from the seed: otherwise, say they, a man begets but half a man, and is worse than a beast that begets both matter and form; and, besides, the three faculties of the soul must be together infused, which is most absurd as they hold, because in beasts they are begot, the two inferior I mean, and may not be well separated in men. [996] Galen supposeth the soul crasin esse, to be the temperature itself; Trismegistus, Musaeus, Orpheus, Homer, Pindarus, Phaerecides Syrus, Epictetus, with the Chaldees and Egyptians, affirmed the soul to be immortal, as did those British [997]Druids of old. The [998]Pythagoreans defend Metempsychosis; and Palingenesia, that souls go from one body to another, epota prius Lethes unda, as men into wolves, bears, dogs, hogs, as they were inclined in their lives, or participated in conditions:",,9295,"•I've included four times: Fire, Harmony, Number, and Seat.","""Many erroneous opinions are about the essence and original of [the rational soul]; whether it be fire, as Zeno held; harmony, as Aristoxenus; number, as Xenocrates; whether it be organical, or inorganical; seated in the brain, heart or blood; mortal or immortal; how it comes into the body.""","",2009-09-14 19:34:06 UTC,"First Partition, Sect I. I. Memb. II, Subsect. IX.--Of the Rational Soul"
3597,"",Reading Ron Cooleys' website. <http://www.usask.ca/english/phoenix/cavendishpoems1.htm>.,2006-12-15 00:00:00 UTC,"Deare Brother, thy Idea in my mind doth lye,
And is intomb'd in my sad memory;
Where every day I to thy Shrine doe goe,
And offer tears, which from my eyes doe flow.
My heart the fire, whose flames are ever pure,
Laid on Loves Altar last, till life endure.
My sorrows incense strew, of sighs fetched deep,
My thoughts do watch while they sweet spirit sleeps.
Dear blessed soul, though thou art gone, yet lives
Thy fame on earth, and men thee praises give.
But all's too smal, for thy Heroick minde
Was above all the praises of Man-kinde. ",2007-04-26,9324,"","""My heart the fire, whose flames are ever pure, / Laid on Loves Altar last, till life endure.""","",2012-04-26 20:50:30 UTC,I've included the entire poem
3607,"","Searching ""breast"" and ""guest"" in HDIS (Poetry)",2006-03-15 00:00:00 UTC,"------ & apta
Spicula sent nobis puris ------
Simple as are the Elements unmixt,
Stedfast as is the earth, whose footing's fixt;
Untainted like the silver suite of Swan,
Alone like truth, well ordered like a man,
Like these in each of these was I, untill
Upon a time, Reason fell foule with Will,
Who back't with sence, that it might battaile move,
Implor'd the ayde of all commanding Love,
Love by his mother taught, doth soone comply,
To be an Actor in this treachery.
The battell's wag'd, and reason fleye the field,
While Sence and Will to Love the Conquest yeeld.
I now, loves subject, am inforclt to doe
What ever his designes commands me to do;
See, see (quoth hee) do you behold that maid,
Whose equall doth not breathe; and there he staid,
To draw fresh aire, So quicke was he to give
Mee notice that I must no longer live,
In my owne selfe, but her whom when I spy'd,
Mee thought I had been happy to have dy'd
Since I at once saw severally in one,
What joyn'd together made perfection.
This was Florella that bright shining starre,
Who might have caused a second Trojan warre,
Were there a second Paris, for her face,
The world might strive, but then there sate a grace
So chast that might expell each spurious thought,
Such as foule Hellen to her Paris brought.
There I might read in my Florella's lookes,
(Such are indeed beauties most perfect bookes)
Loves pleasant Lecture where I might espie
How Cupid once sought entrance at her eye
Whom she repell'd, like snow and chast and cold
Could not admit a Sympathy to hold,
With his hot flames, but melting quite put out
That ardent fire which warm'd her round about.
Cupid denied of this did backward start,
And ran for hast to hide him in her heart,
Where he renewed fresh flames, and by delay,
So I corcht his wings he could not fly away
Thus force perforce in her my conquer'd breast
Is the poore Inne of such a God-borne guest,
Whom while I harbor, it is hard to tell
Whether his presence be a Heaven or Hell.
Such pleasurable paine, such painfull pleasure
Sometimes below, and sometimes above measure.
Mars on a time forsook his Venus bed,
Protesting he no longer would be led
To these embraces, which like Circles charmes,
Made him forget th'Heroicke use of Armes,
Venus heard this whiles halfe in anger shee
Did thrust her darling Cupid off her knee.
Downe falls the youngster and in salling so
Broke all his Arrows, quiver and his bow,
His grandame Nature pittying the mischance,
Wipes the wagges eyes, told him she would advance
Him to his former office: for a dart
That should transfixe the most obdurate heart.
She would create an eye, and for a bow
She'd make a brow, whose art inclining so,
Should shoote such shafts, that deity should yeeld
Themselves glad prisoners in the maiden field,
When streight she made Florella, such a maid,
Who being nam'd, need there ought else be said?
'Tis not long since that I heard Lovers whine
At whose deep wounds, which from their Mistris eyne
They bleeding had ceceiv'd, cause they could winne
No mercy from them, whilst I thought some pinne
Had scratch'd their tender hands, till I too late
Grew sensible they were unfortunate
In their lost loves, 'cause when Florella fround,
Shee like a Commet strucke mee to the ground,
Till shee was pleas'd to cleare her glorious eyes,
Which summon'd mee from death to life to rise.
Wherefore you speedy Merchant doe you runne
Beyond the bounds of the all-bounding Sunne,
To seeke for Rubies, Pearle, and Ivory,
Adventuring hazard both of Land and skie,
When my Florella can afford all this
Without your search in the tumultuous Seas.
Rubies and Pearle, her lips and teeth, her skinne,
Like hollow Ivory, lockes those gems within,
For which you fondly up and downe doe rome
When you may better find this wealth at home,
What would the Northerne Climate hold too deare
To purchase my Florella to live there?
That where the niggard sute denies to shine,
They might receive more lustre from her eyne.
But that I know she loves Religion best,
She had long since, seene India the West,
But least those Pagans who adore the rise
Of the bright Sunne, should doate upon her eyes,
She was resolv'd to stay; wo had I bin
Had she gone thither to encrease their sinne.
East India nothing holds that's worth her view,
There's nothing there, that shee can take for new,
Their aire-perfuming spices, pretious gum,
Their fragrant odors, pleasants, Cinamum
All these and sweeter farre, shee breathes whose smell
Doth all things but it selfe, highly excell:
Once to my friend I did these lines rehearse,
Who streightway smil'd and did applaud my verse
But Ah! I feare 'twas my Florella's name
That brib'd his tongue, so to belie my fame.
Once, and but once I chanc'd to have the sight
Of my Florella, who makes darkness light:
When leaden Morpheus did her sence surprize,
In the lock't casket of her closed eys,
Faine would I steale a kisse, but as I strove,
Those scarlet Judges of my sleeping love
Did swell against my pride, and angry red,
Charg'd mee stand back from her forbidden bed:
While they her precious breath did seem to smother.
Each privately did steale a touch from the other,
I envious at their new begotten blisse
Was hold on her soft lips to print a kisse.
At which she wak't: And have you ever seene
How faire Aurora, heavens illustrious queene.
Shakes off her sable Robe, and with a grace
Smiles in the front of a faire morning face.
Just so my love as if night had beene noone,
Discards the element of the uselesse moone:
And from her glorious tapers sent a fire,
To light the darkest thoughts to quicke desire.
While thus from forth her rosall gate she sent,
Breath form'd in words, the marrow of content.
And have you Sir, at such a tempting time
Betrayd my honour, to this welcome crime,
By stealing pleasure from me, 'twas thy Love
I know, that did thee to this trespasse move
For I have prov'd thy faith which since I finde
The trusty Inmate of a loyall minde,
Of force I must except it; and in part
Of recompence, afford thee all my heart,
Thus having ceaz'd my prize; I told her, sweet,
As by no fouler name we ere may greete,
So what is mine I tender, all, my selfe,
The poorest part of thy unvalued wealth.
Thou hast won much in this, thy mercy showne,
That thus at last thou dost receive thy owne
Least they who after me like fare shall prove,
Should say, See what it is to be in Love.
I am in portu.",,9356,"•Rich passage. I've included five times: Flame, Conquest, Inn, Guest, Heaven or Hell","""Cupid denied of this did backward start, / And ran for hast to hide him in her heart, / Where he renewed fresh flames, and by delay, / So I corcht his wings he could not fly away / Thus force perforce in her my conquer'd breast / Is the poore Inne of such a God-borne guest, / Whom while I harbor, it is hard to tell / Whether his presence be a Heaven or Hell.""",Inhabitants,2009-09-14 19:34:09 UTC,I've included the entire poem
3613,"",EEBO,2004-03-08 00:00:00 UTC,"Me thinks the very name of Man should perswade us to a peaceful quietnesse: but if natural Reason cannot prevaile, yet the respect we have unto Religion the profession of a Christian should work effectually. When I hear the name of Man, I am taken with delight as conceiving him the Subject of peace; but when I read the title of a Christian, my hope is confirmed beyond expectation; yet amongst Christians we finde that discord which the Heathens would have blushed to own. The Market, the Court, the Exchange, the Hall, the Church, all places are filled with contention. Such a general deluge of distraction hath overwhelmed the world, The earth is so besprinkled with the bloody Characters of ruine, that peace cannot find a place to keep her foot-steps dry. I look upon the City and there hope to finde an agreement, where all are guarded with the same Walls, and governed with the same Laws, and (as men in one ship) embarqued in the same common danger. But (oh shame!) How are all things here corrupted with strife and debate: Every house a Bethlem, a cage of madnesse, where every man in a distempered rage corrects his fellow? I saile out of this tempest to the Court as to a certaine Haven of Rest. Sure this is the Palace of peace: Here are men of wisdome and state: Here is the very heart of the people, and the eye of the Common-wealth: Here are his Vice-gerents who is the Prince of peace. The Court is the abstract of government and order; a place free from all tumultuary violence and unruly dissention; and all things promise fairly; courteous language, sweet imbraces, chearful meetings, and other offices of civility and humanity are placed within this circle. And yet (alas!) all this is not the shadow of true peace; but painted bravery, and meer hypocrisie. The true discerning spirit may behold under this mask, divided factions, secret enmity, undermining treachery. Ambition and envy, self-love, and pride, grow up in this rank ground like ill weeds that can never be rooted out notwithstanding the best endeavours of a good Prince. That which I thought the habitation of peace proves a nursery of distraction, a stage of confusion, a seminary of discord; a curious brave modell of folly and madness; where contention, scorne and contempt play their wanton revels under the disguise of Love. I will go to the Schools of the learned. Learning makes us men, Philosophy more then men, Divinity Saints. Surely amongst such I cannot misse of peace; but these have their Warre too, though lesse bloody, yet not lesse cruel. One School fights with another. In the same Academy the Orator and the Logician are together by the ears. He thinks all the Majesty of Eloquence is dilated upon the palme of his hand; And the other thinks all the strength of reason is contracted into his fist: and in this posture they enter the lists. What strange and different opinions do we finde in several Authours? and that not for the substance but ceremonies, not for the kernel but the shell of learning: a letter, a syllable, a point makes the difference: fighting and scolding, as if Religion and their souls lay at stake:and are not more angry with themselves than with others that admire them not, conceiving every man bound to attend their loud noise with fearful reverence. The height of disputation swells into a chollerick rage; and if the matter scape the daggers point, yet there are words which cut like a razor; a sharp style that will fetch blood from the very soul, and destroy a good name. Their subtill distinction serve for no other use but to divide themselves. Whether shall I go at last, there is but one harbour left, Religion. Now certainly I am not farre from my beloved Port. I see the very Emblems and colours of peace, civil garments; I hear the very sound of peace, the name of brother and sonne, terms of charity and community, sweet compellations, and peaceful salutations, willing instructions, and courteous admonitions. Yet even among these I meet with such Impostors as make all this but a glorious shew, a rare outside. There is no where so much intemperance and immoderation as in matters of judgement concerning Religion. Hence it is that we find such miserable distractions in the Christian world. The hearts of men divide as well as their faces; and 'tis hard to finde two as of equal form, so of one opinion. A self-conceited pride rules in every breast, and no man will be bound to forsake the conceits of his own brain. Difference in affection breeds division in doctrine, and variety of opinions drown the power of love and peace. I will venture once again and search amongst the Matrimonial assemblies for a paire of Turtles, an husband and a wife that will not be separated: whose love is contracted to one family, to one fortune, to one bed: who are become one nature in a twofold habit; the same person in a divided skinne, a mutual representation of one heart in two souls. Here, affection sits like a Prince attended with his Royal progeny, the most lovely object that can be represented to the sight; yet as in all other Relations, so likewise here, some difference hath crept in, which oftentimes proceeds to an absolute divorce, or else continues in a raging jealousie and mortal division. I have but one wish more: this is the last step of my desires, that I may enjoy a resting place in the breast but of one man, or feel some sense of quietnesse and tranquility in my own heart. I am denied this happinesse. The same man fights with himself. Reason warres with the affection; and passion with passion. We finde such a contradiction of humours in some men that they can turne into any forme. The minde is sometimes a Bull, sometimes a Serpent, and sometimes a flame of fire; and then the musick of the soule is quite out of tune; the Bells ring backward as in some general conflagration. Piety drives one way, Desire another. Ambition, anger, &c. a various lust divides the four quarters of this little world. This is our wilful misery. And yet we are bold to usurp the stile and title of a Christian, although we do agree in every thing from the most absolute pattern, and prime Authour of Christianity. Look upon the whole volume of his life: what can we finde written there but a doctrine of goodwill, and stedfast reconciliation? what do all his precepts and parables found of, but peace and charitable forbearance? and no wonder, for by the judgement of a Poet, peace is the best of things; by the sentence of a Prophet, the work of righteousness; by the decree of an Apostle, the greatest vertue; for this is that charity which like a true Doctor of peace he prefers before the tongues of men and Angels, before the gift of Prophecy, above all mysteries, and all knowledge, and all faith.
(pp. 92-102, in. 49-54)
",,9379,•I've created three entries for this assertion. ,"""The minde is sometimes a Bull, sometimes a Serpent, and sometimes a flame of fire""","",2009-09-14 19:34:10 UTC,Meditation LX
3613,"",Browsing in EEBO,2004-03-08 00:00:00 UTC,"Me thinks the very name of Man should perswade us to a peaceful quietnesse: but if natural Reason cannot prevaile, yet the respect we have unto Religion the profession of a Christian should work effectually. When I hear the name of Man, I am taken with delight as conceiving him the Subject of peace; but when I read the title of a Christian, my hope is confirmed beyond expectation; yet amongst Christians we finde that discord which the Heathens would have blushed to own. The Market, the Court, the Exchange, the Hall, the Church, all places are filled with contention. Such a general deluge of distraction hath overwhelmed the world, The earth is so besprinkled with the bloody Characters of ruine, that peace cannot find a place to keep her foot-steps dry. I look upon the City and there hope to finde an agreement, where all are guarded with the same Walls, and governed with the same Laws, and (as men in one ship) embarqued in the same common danger. But (oh shame!) How are all things here corrupted with strife and debate: Every house a Bethlem, a cage of madnesse, where every man in a distempered rage corrects his fellow? I saile out of this tempest to the Court as to a certaine Haven of Rest. Sure this is the Palace of peace: Here are men of wisdome and state: Here is the very heart of the people, and the eye of the Common-wealth: Here are his Vice-gerents who is the Prince of peace. The Court is the abstract of government and order; a place free from all tumultuary violence and unruly dissention; and all things promise fairly; courteous language, sweet imbraces, chearful meetings, and other offices of civility and humanity are placed within this circle. And yet (alas!) all this is not the shadow of true peace; but painted bravery, and meer hypocrisie. The true discerning spirit may behold under this mask, divided factions, secret enmity, undermining treachery. Ambition and envy, self-love, and pride, grow up in this rank ground like ill weeds that can never be rooted out notwithstanding the best endeavours of a good Prince. That which I thought the habitation of peace proves a nursery of distraction, a stage of confusion, a seminary of discord; a curious brave modell of folly and madness; where contention, scorne and contempt play their wanton revels under the disguise of Love. I will go to the Schools of the learned. Learning makes us men, Philosophy more then men, Divinity Saints. Surely amongst such I cannot misse of peace; but these have their Warre too, though lesse bloody, yet not lesse cruel. One School fights with another. In the same Academy the Orator and the Logician are together by the ears. He thinks all the Majesty of Eloquence is dilated upon the palme of his hand; And the other thinks all the strength of reason is contracted into his fist: and in this posture they enter the lists. What strange and different opinions do we finde in several Authours? and that not for the substance but ceremonies, not for the kernel but the shell of learning: a letter, a syllable, a point makes the difference: fighting and scolding, as if Religion and their souls lay at stake:and are not more angry with themselves than with others that admire them not, conceiving every man bound to attend their loud noise with fearful reverence. The height of disputation swells into a chollerick rage; and if the matter scape the daggers point, yet there are words which cut like a razor; a sharp style that will fetch blood from the very soul, and destroy a good name. Their subtill distinction serve for no other use but to divide themselves. Whether shall I go at last, there is but one harbour left, Religion. Now certainly I am not farre from my beloved Port. I see the very Emblems and colours of peace, civil garments; I hear the very sound of peace, the name of brother and sonne, terms of charity and community, sweet compellations, and peaceful salutations, willing instructions, and courteous admonitions. Yet even among these I meet with such Impostors as make all this but a glorious shew, a rare outside. There is no where so much intemperance and immoderation as in matters of judgement concerning Religion. Hence it is that we find such miserable distractions in the Christian world. The hearts of men divide as well as their faces; and 'tis hard to finde two as of equal form, so of one opinion. A self-conceited pride rules in every breast, and no man will be bound to forsake the conceits of his own brain. Difference in affection breeds division in doctrine, and variety of opinions drown the power of love and peace. I will venture once again and search amongst the Matrimonial assemblies for a paire of Turtles, an husband and a wife that will not be separated: whose love is contracted to one family, to one fortune, to one bed: who are become one nature in a twofold habit; the same person in a divided skinne, a mutual representation of one heart in two souls. Here, affection sits like a Prince attended with his Royal progeny, the most lovely object that can be represented to the sight; yet as in all other Relations, so likewise here, some difference hath crept in, which oftentimes proceeds to an absolute divorce, or else continues in a raging jealousie and mortal division. I have but one wish more: this is the last step of my desires, that I may enjoy a resting place in the breast but of one man, or feel some sense of quietnesse and tranquility in my own heart. I am denied this happinesse. The same man fights with himself. Reason warres with the affection; and passion with passion. We finde such a contradiction of humours in some men that they can turne into any forme. The minde is sometimes a Bull, sometimes a Serpent, and sometimes a flame of fire; and then the musick of the soule is quite out of tune; the Bells ring backward as in some general conflagration. Piety drives one way, Desire another. Ambition, anger, &c. a various lust divides the four quarters of this little world. This is our wilful misery. And yet we are bold to usurp the stile and title of a Christian, although we do agree in every thing from the most absolute pattern, and prime Authour of Christianity. Look upon the whole volume of his life: what can we finde written there but a doctrine of goodwill, and stedfast reconciliation? what do all his precepts and parables found of, but peace and charitable forbearance? and no wonder, for by the judgement of a Poet, peace is the best of things; by the sentence of a Prophet, the work of righteousness; by the decree of an Apostle, the greatest vertue; for this is that charity which like a true Doctor of peace he prefers before the tongues of men and Angels, before the gift of Prophecy, above all mysteries, and all knowledge, and all faith.
(pp. 92-102, in. 49-54)",,9382,"","""The minde is sometimes a Bull, sometimes a Serpent, and sometimes a flame of fire; and then the musick of the soule is quite out of tune; the Bells ring backward as in some general conflagration.""",Beasts,2011-05-25 20:57:04 UTC,Meditation LX
3613,"",EEBO,2004-03-08 00:00:00 UTC,"Some would have this word Ira, Anger, to be derived from uro, to burn: because it burns and consumes all before it. It consumes the lodging wherein it lies, the heart; it consumes the object whither it goes; and looks death and destruction upon every thing in the way. So the Philosopher defines it, A burning (or boyling) of the blood, or an exuberancy of heat about the heart. Or you may derive our word Anger from Ango; which first sagnifies to strangle or suffocate; and then by Metaphor to torment, vex, grieve, or trouble, as well the mind as the body. And this reaches to both: it destroys the vital parts, and hinders the due operation and exercise of the intellectual faculties: it puts all out of frame and order. So the moral definition fits very well; which terms this troublesome grief [...], appetitum recontristationis, an appetite (or desire) of interchangable sorrow, of continual distraction. Others would have Ira come from Ire, to go, because the angry man goes out of himself and runnes mad: but whither he will go, or where he will stop, God knows; for the devil drives him. If he be so mad to increase the flames, let him enjoy his fiery death alone. Let him live like the Salamander, and die like the Phaenix. Oh sweet revenge! I would be loath with my load of mutual wrath to increase the Funeral Peal. It is the sweetest revenge to forget an injury. If thou be angry indeed, let not the person but his sin offend thee. Be angry, and sin not. Be angry with sin, or else you sin in not being angry. Be angry with any thing but sin, and you cannot but sin in being angry. Be angry and sin not, be not angry and sin. Consider betimes what thou hast done or said in thy inconsiderate wrath which with too late repentance thou mayst wish were now made void. Whosoever is angry with his brother without a cause shall be in danger of judgement, saith our Saviour. When the blood begins to revel in your veines, give this sudden check to that rebellious motion. I am strangely affected now; but I shall be of another minde by and by. Why should I deliver that in anger which cannot be unsaid when I am pleased? why should I do that now in these mad fits which will vex me when I am well in my wits? After a showre of wrath comes a flood of grief. Cannot Religion, and Piety, and Conscience obtaine that of me at this instant which a little time will enforce.
(pp. 142-3, in. 74)",2009-06-09,9386,•INTEREST. On metaphor and passion. Tubbe plays an etymological game here. REVISIT. Rich passage.,"Anger ""consumes the lodging wherein it lies, the heart; it consumes the object whither it goes; and looks death and destruction upon every thing in the way.""","",2009-09-14 19:34:11 UTC,Meditation LXXXII
6666,"","Reading Mrs. Frederick Boas's With Milton and the Cavaliers. New York: James Pott, 1905. p. 42. ",2010-01-19 04:48:53 UTC,"His body was well compact and strong, his stature under 6 foot (I believe about two inches), his head so shaped as you might see it a storehouse and shop both of a vast treasury of natural parts. His temper exceeding fiery, as I have known, but the flame of it kept down, for the most part, or soon allayed with those moral endowments he had. He was naturally compassionate towards objects in distress, even to an effeminate measure: though God made him a heart wherein was left little room for any fear but what was due to himself, of which there was a large proportion, yet did he exceed in tenderness
towards sufferers. A larger soul, I think, hath seldom dwelt in a house of clay than his was. I do believe, if his story were impartially transmitted and the unprejudiced world possessed with it, she would add him to her nine worthies, and make up that number to a decemviri. He lived and died in comfortable communion with God, as judicious persons near him well observed. He was that Mordecai that sought the welfare of his people, and spake peace unto his seed, yet were his temptations such, as it appeared frequently, that he, that hath grace enough for many men, may have too little for himself, the treasure he had being but in an earthen vessel, and that equally defiled with original sin, as any other man's nature is.",,17676,"","""[Oliver Cromwell's] temper exceeding fiery, as I have known, but the flame of it kept down, for the most part, or soon allayed with those moral endowments he had.""","",2010-01-19 04:58:16 UTC,""
3591,"",Reading,2013-06-10 14:17:28 UTC,"This makes the Platonists look upon the spirit of man as the Candle of the Lord for illuminating and irradiating of objects, and darting more light upon them then it receives from them. But Plato as he failed in corporeal vision whilest he thought that it was per extramiss•onem radiorum; So he did not ab errore suo recedere in his intellectual optio••but in the very same manner tells us that spiritual vision also is per emissionem radiorum. And truly he might as well phansie such implanted Ideas, such seeds of light in his external eye, as such seminal principles in the eye of the minde. Therefore Aristotle (who did better clarifie both these kindes of visions) pluckt these motes out of the sensitive eye, and those beames out of the intellectual. He did not antedate his own knowledge, nor remember the several postures of his soul, and the famous exploits of his minde before he was born; but plainly profest that his understanding came naked into the world. He shews you an [GREEK], an abrasa tabula, a virgin-soul espousing it self to the body, in a most entire, affectionate, and conjugal union, and by the blessing of heaven upon this loving paire, he did not doubt of a Notional off-spring & posterity; this makes him set open the windows of sense to welcome and entertain the first dawnings, the early glimmerings of morninglight. Clarum mane fenestras intrat & Angustas extendit lumine rimas. Many sparks and appearances fly from variety of objects to the understanding; The minde, that catches them all, and cherishes them, and blows them; and thus the Candle of knowledge is lighted. As he could perceive no connate colours, no pictures or portraictures in his external eye: so neither could he finde any signatures in his minde till some outward objects had made some impression upon his [GREEK] his soft and plyable understanding impartially prepared for every seal. That this is the true method of knowledge he doth appeal to their own eyes, to their own understandings; do but analyse your own thoughts, do but consult with your own breasts, tell us whence it was that the light first sprang in upon you. Had you such notions as these when you first peept into being? at the first opening of the souls eye? in the first exordium of infancy? had you these connate Species in the cradle? and were they rockt asleep with you? or did you then meditate upon these principles? Totum est majus parte, & Nihil potest esse & non esse simul. Ne're tell us that you wanted origanical dispositiōs, for you plainly have recourse to the sensitive powers, and must needs subscribe to this, that al knowledg comes flourishing in at these lattices. Why else should not your Candle enlighten you before? who was it that chained up; and fettered your common notions▪ Who was it that restrained and imprisoned your connate Idea's? Me thinks the working of a Platonists soul should not at all depend on [GREEK]; and why had you no connate demonstrations, as well as connate principles? Let's but see a catalogue of all these truths you brought with you into the world. If you speak of the principles of the Laws of Nature, you shall hear the Schoolmen determining. Infans pro illo statu non obligatur lege naturali, quia non habet usum Rationis & libertatis. And a more sacred Author saies as much, Lex Naturae est lex intelligentiae quam tamen ignorat pueritia, nescit infantia. There's some time to be allowed for the promulgation of Natures Law by the voice of Reason. They must have some time to spell the [GREEK] that was of Reasons writing. The minde having such gradual and climbing accomplishments, doth strongly evince that the true rise of knowledge is from the observing and comparing of objects, and from thence exstracting
the quintessence of some such principles as are worthy of all acceptation; that have so much of certainty in them, that they are neer to a Tautology and Identity, for this first principles are.
(pp. 90-2)",,20465,"","""Many sparks and appearances fly from variety of objects to the understanding; The minde, that catches them all, and cherishes them, and blows them; and thus the Candle of knowledge is lighted.""","",2013-06-10 14:17:28 UTC,"Chap. XI. The light of Reason is a derivative light.
"