I pity the man who can travel from Dan to Beersheba, and cry, ‘Tis all barren—and so it is; and so is all the world to him who will not cultivate the fruits it offers. I declare, said I, clapping my hands chearily together, that was I in a desart, I would find out wherewith in it to call forth my affections—If I could not do better, I would fasten them upon some sweet myrtle, or seek some melancholy cypress to connect myself to—I would court their shade, and greet them kindly for their protection—I would cut my name upon them, and swear they were the loveliest trees throughout the desert: if their leaves wither’d, I would teach myself to mourn, and when they rejoiced, I would rejoice along with them.
Laurence SterneIf death, said my father, reasoning with himself, is nothing but the separation of the soul from the body;--and if it is true that people can walk about and do their business without brains,--then certes the soul does not inhabit there.
Laurence SterneMots clés death brains the-soul
Human nature is the same in all professions.
Laurence SterneMots clés human-nature
I have a strong propensity in me to begin this chapter very nonsensically, and I will not balk my fancy.--Accordingly I set off thus:
Laurence SternePain and pleasure, like light and darkness, succeed each other.
Laurence SterneDrevni Goti u Germaniji [...] - imađahu jedan mudar zajednički običaj, naime, da o svakoj važnijoj stvari koja se ticala zajednice raspravljaju dvaput; i to - jednom kad su pijani, a drugi put u treznom stanju;- Pijani - da im savetovanje ne bude lišeno snage i odvažnosti;- atrezni - da ne bude lišeno razboritosti i opreznosti.
Laurence SterneMoj život je neprekidna digresija, od kolevke pa do moga groba.
Laurence SterneIt is the nature of an hypothesis, when once a man has conceived it, that it assimulates every thing to itself as proper nourishment; and, from the first moment of your begetting it, it generally grows the stronger by every thing you see, hear, read, or understand.
Laurence SterneWriting, when properly managed, (as you may be sure I think mine is) is but a different name for conversation.
Laurence SterneMots clés writing write conversation
Time wastes too fast… the days and hours of it… are flying over our heads like little clouds on a windy day, never to return more – everything presses on – whilst thou art twisting the lock, - see! it grows grey… and every time I kiss thy hand to bid adieu, and every absence which follows it, are preludes to that eternal separation which we are shortly to make!
Laurence SterneMots clés life day love time hope paris fast
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