Thomas Carlyle
Thomas Carlyle
Thomas Carlylewas a Scottish philosopher, satirical writer, essayist, historian and teacher. Considered one of the most important social commentators of his time, he presented many lectures during his lifetime with certain acclaim in the Victorian era. One of those conferences resulted in his famous work On Heroes, Hero-Worship, and The Heroic in History where he explains that the key role in history lies in the actions of the "Great Man", claiming that "History is nothing but the biography of the...
NationalityScottish
ProfessionPhilosopher
Date of Birth4 December 1795
Life is a little gleam of time between two eternity s.
If time is precious, no book that will not improve by repeated reading deserves to be read at all.
The illimitable, silent, never-resting thing called Time, rolling, rushing on, swift, silent, like an all-embracing ocean-tide, on which we and all the universe swim like exhalations, like apparitions which are, and then are not: this is forever very literally a miracle; a thing to strike us dumb, for we have no word to speak about it.
Naps are a way of traveling painlessly through time into the future.
Youth is to all the glad season of life; but often only by what it hopes, not by what it attains, or what it escapes.
One life; a little gleam of Time between two Eternities; no second chance to us for evermore!
The past is all holy to us; the dead are all holy; even they that were wicked when alive.
If time is precious, no book that will not improve by repeated readings deserves to be read at all.
That great mystery of TIME, were there no other; the illimitable, silent, never-resting thing called Time, rolling, rushing on, swift, silent, like an all-embracing ocean tide, on which we and all the Universe swim like exhalations, like apparitions which are, and then are not: this is forever very literally a miracle; a thing to strike us dumb,-for we have no word to speak about it.
Eternity looks grander and kinder if time grow meaner and more hostile.
In books lies the soul of the whole Past Time; the articulate audible voice of the Past, when the body and material substance of it has altogether vanished like a dream.
The outer passes away; the innermost is the same yesterday, today, and forever.
O Time! Time! how it brings forth and devours! And the roaring flood of existence rushes on forever similar, forever changing!
Time has only a relative existence.