Scientific meliorism and the evolution of happiness

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Page iii - The good want power but to weep barren tears : The powerful goodness want, — worse need for them : The wise want love : and those who love want wisdom : And all best things are thus confused to ill.
Page 74 - WHENE'ER I take my walks abroad, How many poor I see ! What shall I render to my God For all his gifts to me ? . Not more than others I deserve, Yet God hath given me more ; For I have food while others starve, Or beg from door to door.
Page 233 - It is not by wearing down into uniformity all that is individual in themselves, but by cultivating it and calling it forth, within the limits imposed by the rights and interests of others, that human beings become a noble and beautiful object of contemplation ; and as the works partake the character of those who do them, by the same process human life also becomes rich, diversified, and animating, furnishing more abundant aliment to high thoughts and elevating feelings, and strengthening the tie...
Page 139 - Women, then, are only children of a larger growth; they have an entertaining tattle and sometimes wit; but for solid, reasoning good-sense, I never in my life knew one that had it, or who reasoned or acted consequentially for fourand-twenty hours together. ... A man of sense only trifles with them, plays with them, humours and flatters them...
Page 274 - But he answered and said unto him that told him , Who is my mother? and who are my brethren? And he stretched forth his hand toward his disciples, and said, Behold my mother and my brethren! For whosoever shall do the will of my Father which is in heaven, the same is my brother, and sister, and mother.
Page ix - But the effect of her being on those around her was incalculably diffusive: for the growing good of the world is partly dependent on unhistoric acts; and that things are not so ill with you and me as they might have been, is half owing to the number who lived faithfully a hidden life, and rest in unvisited tombs.
Page 120 - He roved among the vales and streams, In the green wood and hollow dell ; They were his dwellings night and day, — But Nature ne'er could find the way Into the heart of Peter Bell. In vain, through every changeful year, Did Nature lead him as before ; A primrose by a river's brim A yellow primrose was to him, And it was nothing more.
Page 261 - O tender pride! Two faces o'er a cradle bent: Two hands above the head were locked; These pressed each other while they rocked, Those watched a life that love had sent. O solemn hour!
Page 108 - Caleb Garth often shook his head in meditation on the value, the indispensable might of that myriadheaded, myriad-handed labour by which the social body is fed, clothed, and housed. It had laid hold of his imagination in boyhood. The echoes of the great hammer where roof or keel were a-making, the...
Page 234 - But little do men perceive what solitude is, and how far it extendeth. For a crowd is not company, and faces are but a gallery of pictures, and talk but a tinkling cymbal, where there is no love.

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