“Autumn lingered on as if fond of its own perfection.”
Source: Ross Poldark
Part 1.
Paracelsus (1835)
“Autumn lingered on as if fond of its own perfection.”
Source: Ross Poldark
The Principles of Success in Literature (1865)
Context: In Science the paramount appeal is to the Intellect — its purpose being instruction; in Art, the paramount appeal is to the Emotions — its purpose being pleasure. A work of Art must of course indirectly appeal to the Intellect, and a work of Science will also indirectly appeal to the Feelings; nevertheless a poem on the stars and a treatise on astronomy have distinct aims and distinct methods. But having recognised the broadly-marked differences, we are called upon to ascertain the underlying resemblances. Logic and Imagination belong equally to both. It is only because men have been attracted by the differences that they have overlooked the not less important affinities.
“The Autumn seems to cry for thee,
Best lover of the Autumn-days!”
Cousin Helen's Visit (1935).
“Sadly, I part from you;
Like a clam torn from its shell,
I go, and autumn too.”
Source: Narrow Road to the Interior
“Autumn carries more gold in its pocket than all the other seasons.”
“Autumn returned to Gormenghast like a dark spirit re-entering its stronghold.”
Source: Titus Groan (1946), Chapter 28 “Flay Brings a Message” (p. 152)
“The appeal of any agreement depends on its terms.”
Source: Written testimony before European Parliament Committee on Economic and Monetary Affairs, March 17, 2014.
The Reactionary Temptation (2017)
Context: You will not arrest the reactionary momentum by ignoring it or dismissing it entirely as a function of bigotry or stupidity. You’ll only defuse it by appreciating its insights and co-opting its appeal.
Reaction can be clarifying if it helps us better understand the huge challenges we now face. But reaction by itself cannot help us manage the world we live in today — which is the only place that matters. You start with where you are, not where you were or where you want to be. There are no utopias in the future or Gardens of Eden in our past. There is just now — in all its incoherent, groaning, volatile messiness. Our job, like everyone before us, is to keep our nerve and make the best of it.