The work an unknown good man has done is like a vein of water flowing hidden underground, secretly making the ground green.
Thomas CarlyleRead
Love is not altogether a delirium, yet it has many points in common therewith.
Interpretation
Love possesses elements of both rationality and irrationality, blending clarity with emotional intensity.
In this quote, Thomas Carlyle suggests that while love is not purely a state of madness or delirium, it shares several characteristics with such a mental state. It indicates that love can be overwhelming and can lead to a loss of normal reasoning, yet it also remains grounded in real emotions and connections that evoke both passion and clarity.
In practice
During a wedding speech, one might say, 'As Thomas Carlyle expressed, love is not all delirium; it's a beautiful blend of clarity and passion.'
The work an unknown good man has done is like a vein of water flowing hidden underground, secretly making the ground green.
Thirty millions, mostly fools.
There is a great discovery still to be made in literature, that of paying literary men by the quantity they do not write.
For the superior morality, of which we hear so much, we too would desire to be thankful: at the same time, it were but blindness to deny that this superior morality is properly rather an inferior criminality, produced not by greater love of Virtue, but by greater perfection of Police; and of that far subtler and stronger Police, called Public Opinion.
Enjoying things which are pleasant; that is not the evil; it is the reducing of our moral self to slavery by them that is.
Clean undeniable right, clear undeniable might: either of these once ascertained puts an end to battle. All battle is a confused experiment to ascertain one and both of these.
life is a deep sleep of which love is the dream
There are more love songs than anything else. If songs could make you do something we'd all love one another.
I've found what I was looking for, Child: what people call love between a man and a woman is a season. And if, at its flowering, this season is a feast of greenery, at its waning, it's only a heap of rotting leaves.
Journeys end in lovers meeting; I have spent an all but sleepless night, I have told lies and made a fool of myself, and the very air tastes like wine. I have been frightened half out of my foolish wits, but I have somehow earned this joy; I have been waiting for it for so long.
Deep within us-no matter who we are-there lives a feeling of wanting to be lovable, of wanting to be the kind of person that others like to be with. And the greatest thing we can do is to let people know that they are loved and capable of loving.
There are lovers content with longing. Iβm not one of them.
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