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George MacDonald

George MacDonald

      George MacDonald was a Scottish author, poet, and Christian minister.

      Known particularly for his poignant fairy tales and fantasy novels, George MacDonald inspired many authors, such as W. H. Auden, J. R. R. Tolkien, C. S. Lewis, E. Nesbit and Madeleine L'Engle. G. K. Chesterton cited The Princess and the Goblin as a book that had "made a difference to my whole existence."

      Even Mark Twain, who initially disliked MacDonald, became friends with him, and there is some evidence that Twain was influenced by MacDonald.

      MacDonald grew up influenced by his Congregational Church, with an atmosphere of Calvinism. But MacDonald never felt comfortable with some aspects of Calvinist doctrine; indeed, legend has it that when the doctrine of predestination was first explained to him, he burst into tears (although assured that he was one of the elect). Later novels, such as Robert Falconer and Lilith, show a distaste for the idea that God's electing love is limited to some and denied to others.

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Suit the action to the word, the word to the action; with this special observance, that you o’er-step not the modesty of nature;
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Пусть сахарный язык Дурацкую облизывает пышность И клонится проворное колено Там, где втираться прибыльно. Ты слышишь? Едва мой дух стал выбирать свободно И различать людей, его избранье Отметило тебя; ты человек, Который и в страданиях не страждет И с равной благодарностью приемлет Гнев и дары судьбы; благословен, Чьи кровь и разум так отрадно слиты, Что он не дудка в пальцах у Фортуны, На нем играющей. Будь человек Не раб страстей, — и я его замкну В средине сердца, в самом сердце сердца, Как и тебя.
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What a piece of work is a man! How noble in reason! how infinite in faculties! in form and moving, how express95 and admirable! in action, how like an angel! in apprehension, how like a god!
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Devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to sleep; To sleep, perchance to dream—For in that sleep of death what dreams may come,When we have shuffled off this mortal coil, Must give us pause, there's the respect, That makes calamity of so long life” ― William Shakespeare, Hamlet
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Devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to sleep; To sleep, perchance to dream—For in that sleep of death what dreams may come, When we have shuffled off this mortal coil, Must give us pause, there's the respect, That makes calamity of so long life” ― William Shakespeare, Hamlet
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Mes turime kalbėtis, sverdami kiekvieną žodelį, nes, kitaip, žūsime nuo dviprasmiškumo.
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They aim at it, And botch the words up fit to their own thoughts,
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Queen. The lady doth protest too much, methinks. [225] Hamlet
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O you must wear your rue with a difference…
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The door into life generally opens behind us and the only wisdom for one haunted with the scent of unseen roses is work."-George MacDonald
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Could we see things always as we have sometimes seen them—and as one day we must always see them, only far better—should we ever know dullness? Greatly as we might enjoy all forms of art, much as we might learn through the eyes and thoughts of other men, should we fly to these for deliverance from , from any haunting discomfort? Should we not just open our own child-eyes, look upon the things themselves, and be consoled?
topics: wonder  
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That's all nonsense," said Curdie. "I don't know what you mean." "Then if you don't know what I mean, what right have you to call it nonsense?
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It is not in the nature of politics that the best men should be elected. The best men do not want to govern their fellow men.
topics: politics  
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what then is death? If it be a stopping of life, then that is which cannot be. But it may be only a change in the form of life that looks like a stopping, and is not! If Death be stronger than Life, so that he stops life, how then was Life able so to flout him, that he, the thing that was not, arose from the antenatal sepulchre on which Death sat throned in impotent negation of entity, unable to preclude existence, and yet able to annihilate it? Life alone is: nothingness is not; Death cannot destroy; he is not the antagonist, not the opposite of life.
topics: death , life  
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she might have seen that she was not bound to measure God by the way her father talked to him—that the form of the prayer had to do with her father, not immediately with God—that God might be altogether adorable, notwithstanding the prayers of all heathens and of all saints.
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She hardly knew for which to be more grateful—her son, given helpless into her hands, unable to repel the love she lavished upon him; or the girl whom God had taken from the very throat of the swallowing grave.
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What is the matter with your master?" George asked Dawtie as they bounced along toward Potlurg. "God knows, sir." "What is the use of telling me that? I want you to tell me what YOU know." "I don't know anything, sir.
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Then let us be of one heart too, Dawtie!" She was so accustomed to hear Andrew speak in figures, that sometimes she looked through and beyond his words. She did so now, and seeing nothing, stood perplexed. "Willna ye, Dawtie?" said Andrew, holding out his hands. "I dinna freely understand ye, An'rew!" "Ye heavenly idiot!" cried Andrew. "Will ye be my wife, or will you no?
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And we had met at last in this same cave of greenery, while the summer night hung round us heavy with love, and the odours that crept through the silence from the sleeping woods were the only signs of an outer world that invaded our solitude.
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It was not a bed with curtains, but a bed with doors like shutters. This may not seem like a nice way of having a bed, but we would all be glad of the wooden curtains about us at night if we lived in such a cottage, on the side of a hill along which the wind swept like a wild river. Through the cottage it would be streaming all night long. And a poor woman with a cough, or a man who has been out in the cold all day, is very glad of such a place to lie in, and leave the the rest of the house to the wind and the fairies.
topics: bed , cottage , fairies , night , poor , sleep , wind  
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