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Review: Biographia LiterariaAvis d'utilisateur - Goodreads
I actually have a 1920's roughly pocket sized hard back Everyman edition of this that I picked up in Powell's in Portland on a visit there. I've browsed around in it a bit and read some excerpts ...
Review: Biographia LiterariaAvis d'utilisateur - Catherine - Goodreads
I had trouble maintaining my interest in this book. Consulter l'avis complet
admiration appear Aristotle beauty blank verse cause character commencement common compositions consciousness criticism Cuxhaven Dane deemed diction distinct effect Elbe English equally excellence excitement existence express faculty fancy feelings former French genius German German language Greek ground Hamburg heart honour human idea images imagination imitation instance intellectual intelligible interest jacobinism judgment Klopstock knowledge language latter least less lines literary Lyrical Ballads meaning metaphysics metre Milton mind mode moral natural philosophy nature never notions object once original passages passion perhaps person philosophical Plato pleasure Plotinus poem poet poetic poetry possible present principles prose Ratzeburg reader reason rhyme scarcely sensation sense Shakspeare sonnet sophism soul Spinoza spirit stanzas style supposed Synesius taste thing thou thought tion true truth Venus and Adonis verse whole words Wordsworth Wordsworth's writer
Page 172 - The primary IMAGINATION I hold to be the living Power and prime Agent of all human Perception, and as a repetition in the finite mind of the eternal act of creation in the infinite I AM.
Page 179 - The poet, described in ideal perfection, brings th^. whole soul of man into activity, with the subordination of its faculties to each other, according to their relative worth and dignity. He diffuses a tone and spirit of unity, that blends, and, (as it were,) fuses, each into each, by that synthetic and magical power, to which we have exclusively appropriated the name of imagination.
Page 27 - Was it the proud full sail of his great verse, Bound for the prize of all too precious you, That did my ripe thoughts in my brain inhearse, Making their tomb the womb wherein they grew? Was it his spirit, by spirits taught to write Above a mortal pitch, that struck me dead?
Page 173 - Fancy, on the contrary, has no other counters to play with but fixities and definites. The fancy is indeed no other than a mode of memory emancipated from the order of time and space, while it is blended with, and modified by, that empirical phenomenon of the will which we express by the word choice. But equally with the ordinary memory the fancy must receive all its materials ready made from the law of association.
Page 276 - But for those first affections, Those shadowy recollections, Which, be they what they may, Are yet the fountain light of all our day, Are yet a master light of all our seeing; Uphold us, cherish, and have power to make Our noisy years seem moments in the being Of the eternal silence: truths that wake, To perish never...
Page 184 - Anon permit the basest clouds to ride With ugly rack on his celestial face, And from the forlorn world his visage hide, Stealing unseen to west with this disgrace...
Page 12 - ... bring up, so as to escape his censure. I learned from him that poetry, even that of the loftiest and, seemingly, that of the wildest odes, had a logic of its own, as severe as that of science ; and more difficult, because more subtle, more complex, and dependent on more, and more fugitive, causes. In the truly great poets, he would say, there is a reason assignable, not only for every word, but for the position of every word...
Page 275 - Heaven lies about us in our infancy ! Shades of the prison-house begin to close Upon the growing boy ; But he beholds the light, and whence it flows ; He sees it in his joy ! The youth who daily further from the east Must travel, still is nature's priest, And by the vision splendid Is on his way attended ; At length the man perceives it die away, And fade into the light of common day.
Page 269 - The blackbird amid leafy trees, The lark above the hill, Let loose their carols when they please, Are quiet when they will. With Nature never do they wage A foolish strife ; they see A happy youth, and their old age Is beautiful and free : But we are pressed by heavy laws ; And often, glad no more, We wear a face of joy, because We have been glad of yore.
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W Ross Winterowd - 1989 - Rhetoric Review