Contentment

Passages

Every passage tagged with this emotion in the Vela corpus. Search the body text, narrow by source or register, click through to a book’s profile to see how the passage sits with the rest of the work.

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• From Saint Thomas Aquinas Collection (22 Books) (2016)

  Reply. There are two ways of being a perfection to a thing. In one way there is a perfection to a thing already complete in its species: in another way there is a perfection going to make up the species. Thus the perfection of a house, considered as complete in its species, is that use for which the house is intended, namely, being inhabited: hence this should be put in the definition of a house, if the definition is to be adequate. A perfection going to make up the species of a house may be one of the constituents and substantial principles of the species: or it may be something that goes to the preservation of the species, as the buttresses made to prop the house up: lastly, under this head we must count whatever makes the house more comely for use, as its beauty. That therefore which is the perfection of a thing, considered as already complete in its species, is the end of a thing, as being inhabited is the end of a house. And in like manner the proper activity of each thing, which is a sort of use of it, is the end of the thing. But the perfections which go to make up the species are not the end of the thing: rather the thing is their end. Thus matter and form are for the species. In like manner the perfections that preserve a thing in its species, as health and nutrition, though they perfect the animal, are not the end of its existence, but rather the other way about. Those perfections also whereby a thing is fitted to discharge the proper activities of its species and gain its due end more becomingly, are not the end of the thing, but rather the other way about, e.g., a man’s beauty and bodily strength, and other accomplishments, of which the philosopher says that they minister to happiness instrumentally. Now when we say that delight is the perfection of activity, we do not mean that activity specifically considered is directed to the purpose of delight,—the fact is, it is ordained to other ends, as eating is ordained to the preservation of the individual,—we mean that delight ranks among the perfections which go to make up the species of a thing: for through the delight that we take in any action we apply ourselves to it more attentively and becomingly. Arg. 3. Delight seems to be so desired for its own sake as never to be desired for the sake of anything else: for it is foolish to ask of any one why [he] wishes to be delighted. But this is the condition of the last end, to be desired for its own sake. Therefore the last end is rather in an act of the will than of the understanding, so it seems.

• From The Decameron (1353)

  Dioneo's story being finished and the ladies having discoursed amain thereof, some inclining to one side and some to another, this blaming one thing and that commending it, the king, lifting his eyes to heaven and seeing that the sun was now low and the hour of vespers at hand, proceeded, without arising from session, to speak thus, "Charming ladies, as I doubt not you know, the understanding of mortals consisteth not only in having in memory things past and taking cognizance of things present; but in knowing, by means of the one and the other of these, to forecast things future is reputed by men of mark to consist the greatest wisdom. To-morrow, as you know, it will be fifteen days since we departed Florence, to take some diversion for the preservation of our health and of our lives, eschewing the woes and dolours and miseries which, since this pestilential season began, are continually to be seen about our city. This, to my judgment, we have well and honourably done; for that, an I have known to see aright, albeit merry stories and belike incentive to concupiscence have been told here and we have continually eaten and drunken well and danced and sung and made music, all things apt to incite weak minds to things less seemly, I have noted no act, no word, in fine nothing blameworthy, either on your part or on that of us men; nay, meseemeth I have seen and felt here a continual decency, an unbroken concord and a constant fraternal familiarity; the which, at once for your honour and service and for mine own, is, certes, most pleasing to me. Lest, however, for overlong usance aught should grow thereof that might issue in tediousness, and that none may avail to cavil at our overlong tarriance,--each of us, moreover, having had his or her share of the honour that yet resideth in myself,--I hold it meet, an it be your pleasure, that we now return whence we came; more by token that, if you consider aright, our company, already known to several others of the neighbourhood, may multiply after a fashion that will deprive us of our every commodity. Wherefore, if you approve my counsel, I will retain the crown conferred on me until our departure, which I purpose shall be to-morrow morning; but, should you determine otherwise, I have already in mind whom I shall invest withal for the ensuing day."

• From The Decameron (1353)

  Accordingly, having still on his body a very white doublet and an apron fresh from the wash, which bespoke him rather a miller than a baker, he let set before his door, every morning, towards the time when he looked for Messer Geri and the ambassadors to pass, a new tinned pail of fair water and a small pitcher of new Bolognese ware, full of his good white wine, together with two beakers, which seemed of silver, so bright they were, and seated himself there, against they should pass, when, after clearing his throat once or twice, he fell to drinking of that his wine with such a relish that he had made a dead man's mouth water for it. Messer Geri, having seen him do thus one and two mornings, said on the third, 'How now, Cisti? Is it good?' Whereupon he started to his feet and said, 'Ay is it, Sir; but how good I cannot give you to understand, except you taste thereof.' Messer Geri, in whom either the nature of the weather or belike the relish with which he saw Cisti drink had begotten a thirst, turned to the ambassadors and said, smiling, 'Gentlemen, we shall do well to taste this honest man's wine; belike it is such that we shall not repent thereof.' Accordingly, he made with them towards Cisti, who let bring a goodly settle out of his bakehouse and praying them sit, said to their serving-men, who pressed forward to rinse the beakers, 'Stand back, friends, and leave this office to me, for that I know no less well how to skink than to wield the baking-peel; and look you not to taste a drop thereof.' So saying, he with his own hands washed out four new and goodly beakers and letting bring a little pitcher of his good wine, busied himself with giving Messer Geri and his companions to drink, to whom the wine seemed the best they had drunken that great while; wherefore they commended it greatly, and well nigh every morning, whilst the ambassadors abode there, Messer Geri went thither to drink in company with them.

• From Fragments (7)

  WINE THE CUP-BEARER (30) The maid sweet honeyed wine poured out; With three-cupped jar she went about. THE RIGHT MIXTURE (31) From a spotless jar pour in Six parts wine, of water ten. LET ME DRINK (32) Come now, boy, a jar bring in, A deep draught to take; 91 Lyric Son^s of the Greeks Ten cups water, five of wine Pour, a pledge to make, That, like Bacchus, mildly I Into frenzy break. MODERATION IN DRINK (33) Come now, do at last Cease to roar and shout. Do not drink so fast. Stop that Scythian bout. Rather let us drink with measure. And in beauteous song find pleasure. INTOXICATED (34) Since I am drunken now with wine, I pray, Wilt thou not let me homeward wend my way? THIRSTY (35) A friendly maid to strangers certainly art thou; Since I am thirsty, wilt thou me to drink allow? IN THE HALLS OF ZEUS (36) The high-roofed halls of Zeus resounded, And with the violent roar rebounded. 92 Anacreon THE DANCE OF THE MUSES (37) The beauteous-haired maidens of Zeus did com- mence Nimbly the gracefully figured dance. MUSIC ANE) DANCE (38) Whom see I there? Whom meets my glance? Who turns our thoughts to lovely youth? Who to the three-holed flute doth dance, Whose delicate notes our spirits soothe? CLOVER GARLANDS (39) With plaited garlands of clover Their necks and their breasts they did cover. THREE WREATHS FOR EACH (40) Three wreaths to each man were given, with roses two entwined, The third made of papyrus, of the Naucratite kind. 93 Lyric Songs of the Greeks THE FESTIVAL OF DIONYSUS (40 Over our eyes with parsley wreaths Let us our brows enfold) And then a cheerful festival To Dionysus hold. PERFUMED OINTMENT (42) How now? Upon thy wings thou art soaring, Perfumed ointment downward pouring Upon thy breast more hollow far Than pipes of tuneful shepherds are. ANACREON'S POPULARITY (43) Because of my words, because of my song I am loved by the boys who about me throng; For pleasant the songs I know to sing, And pleasant the spoken words I bring. ANACREON^S DESIRES (44) 'Twere not worth while, to me it appears, The horn of plenty to attain, Not for one hundred fifty years Would I o*er proud Tartessus reign. 94 Anacreon ANACREON'S MODERATION IN LOVE (45) I am in love, and then again no love I have. I am raving mad, and then again I do not rave. ANACREON AND HIS TOWNSMEN (46) Neither steadfast, firm, nor kind To my townsmen is my mind. ANACREON'S SHIELD (47) Along the fair stream's banks through fright I threw away my shield in flight. ANACREON IN OLD AGE (48) My temples now with gray are sprinkled, And on my head my hair is white; My youth is gone, my forehead wrinkled, My teeth have lost their lustre bright. My closing years pass by in haste: Soon I no more sweet life shall taste.

• From The Decameron (1353)

  Wert thou a scholar, thou wouldst do well to repeat certain orisons I would give thee; but, as thou art it not, thou must say three hundred Paternosters and as many Ave Marys, in honour of the Trinity, and looking upon heaven, still have in remembrance that God is the Creator of heaven and earth and the passion of Christ, abiding on such wise as He abode on the cross. When the bell ringeth to matins, thou mayst, an thou wilt, go and cast thyself, clad as thou art, on thy bed and sleep, and after, in the forenoon, betake thyself to church and there hear at least three masses and repeat fifty Paternosters and as many Aves; after which thou shalt with a single heart do all and sundry thine occasions, if thou have any to do, and dine and at evensong be in church again and there say certain orisons which I will give thee by writ and without which it cannot be done. Then, towards complines, do thou return to the fashion aforesaid, and thus doing, even as I have myself done aforetime, I doubt not but, ere thou come to the end of the penance, thou wilt, (provided thou shalt have performed it with devoutness and compunction,) feel somewhat marvellous of eternal beatitude.' Quoth Fra Puccio, 'This is no very burdensome matter, nor yet overlong, and may very well be done; wherefore I purpose in God's name to begin on Sunday.' Then, taking leave of him and returning home, he related everything in due order to his wife, having the other's permission therefor. The lady understood very well what the monk meant by bidding him stand fast without stirring till matins; wherefore, the device seeming to her excellent, she replied that she was well pleased therewith and with every other good work that he did for the health of his soul and that, so God might make the penance profitable to him, she would e'en fast with him, but do no more. They being thus of accord and Sunday come, Fra Puccio began his penance and my lord monk, having agreed with the lady, came most evenings to sup with her, bringing with him store of good things to eat and drink, and after lay with her till matinsong, when he arose and took himself off, whilst Fra Puccio returned to bed. Now the place which Fra Puccio had chosen for his penance adjoined the chamber where the lady lay and was parted therefrom but by a very slight wall, wherefore, Master Monk wantoning it one night overfreely with the lady and she with him, it seemed to Fra Puccio that he felt a shaking of the floor of the house. Accordingly, having by this said an hundred of his Paternosters, he made a stop there and without moving, called to his wife to know what she did.

• From Enchanted: Erotic Bedtime Stories for Women (Erotic Fiction) (2006)

  Several months passed until, one day, the queen truly did repent of her unkindness to Snow White. She sent another servant into the woods with instructions to cut the stays of Snow White’s corset and set her free from the evil spell. But this servant was unfamiliar with the forest and the cottage of the dwarfs and, after much meandering in and around the area, he became lost. Afraid to return to the queen without accomplishing his mission, he sat down under a tree to contemplate the matter. By and by, a handsome prince rode through on his white horse. The servant flagged down the prince to beg his assistance in the errand of the queen and, as princes are known to ride through forests for opportunities just like this, the prince enthusiastically agreed to find and save the fair Snow White. The handsome prince easily found the cottage of the dwarfs and within minutes discovered Snow White in her glass coffin. He lifted the cover and stared at her for a moment before reaching beneath her and breaking apart her stays. She immediately awoke, and stared at the handsome prince. “I love you, Snow White,” he said. “Marry me and be my princess.” Now Snow White was forever forgetting which dwarf became which prince, but she knew without a doubt that this prince was not one of hers. “I cannot marry you,” she replied, looking around for her own princes. The prince was shocked; he had been so certain that that was not how the story went, but, after much ado, he finally gave up and left Snow White at the cottage of the dwarfs. And, oh, what celebrating took place there when the dwarf-princes returned to discover Snow White alive and well! The queen, of course, made repeated attempts to bring Snow White back to the castle but, to everyone’s astonishment, Snow White adamantly refused. Every manner of enticement and coercion was employed, but nothing could persuade Snow White to return. Eventually, the queen was forced to relent, and Snow White was permitted to remain in the little cottage with the dwarfs. The strange behavior of Snow White caused many a rumor to spring up, but the queen and those in her service most tirelessly maintain that Snow White did, in fact, marry the prince who saved her in the woods, riding off with him to his kingdom far away. Perhaps that is even the story that you heard. But I can assure you that Snow White stayed in the little cottage of the dwarfs, hidden deep in the forest. No doubt she is still there today.

• From Under the Banner of Heaven (2003)

  Did I feel God’s hand guiding me on the twenty-fourth of July 1984?’ And then I remember very clearly, ‘Yes, I was guided by the hand of God.’ So I know I did the right thing. Christ says, ‘If you want to know if something is true, believe. And I’ll help you know the truth.’ And that’s what he did with me. “I’m sure God knows I love Him. It’s my belief that everything will work out, and there will be a happy ending to this whole strange experience. I’ve just had too many little glimpses through the thin fabric of this reality to believe otherwise. Even when I have tried not to believe, I can’t.” Serene in the knowledge that he has led a righteous life, Dan Lafferty is confident that he won’t be festering here in maximum security much longer. He is sure that “any day now” he will hear the blare of the trumpet heralding the Last Days, whereupon he will be released from this hell of strip searches and prison food and razor wire to assume his rightful place in the Kingdom of God. TWENTY-FIVE THE AMERICAN RELIGION Accounts of Mormons and the Mormon Church . . . tend toward one of two extremes. On the one hand, accounts of Mormonism from the church’s founding by Joseph Smith in the 1820s have emphasized the sensational, the lurid, the scandalous, the heretical and the titillating, for the reason that, well, there is much in Mormon history, culture, and doctrine that is sensational, lurid, scandalous, heretical and titillating, as measured against mainstream American culture then and now. . . . On the other hand, other accounts of Mormons—accounts of the people rather than the articles of their strange faith—have often emphasized the cheerful virtue, the upright and yet often relaxed, pragmatic goodness of its adherents, their ability to hold together families and raise decent children and provide the consolations of community in the confusing modern world more successfully than many others. These accounts often pass over in discreet silence the sometimes embarrassing tenets of faith that, especially if one were Mormon, might have been thought an inestimably important part of making that moral success possible. If opponents of Mormonism have often asked, “Can’t we stop the Mormons from being Mormon?”, ostensible admirers of Mormons as people have often asked, at least by implication, “Can’t we have Mormons—but without Mormonism?” KENNETH ANDERSON, “A PECULIAR PEOPLE: THE MYSTICAL AND PRAGMATIC APPEAL OF MORMONISM, ” LOS ANGELES TIMES, NOVEMBER 28, 1999 A genuine first-hand religious experience . . . is bound to be a heterodoxy to its witnesses, the prophet appearing as a mere lonely madman. If his doctrine prove contagious enough to spread to any others, it becomes a definite and labeled heresy.

• From Saint Thomas Aquinas Collection (22 Books) (2016)

  Virtue alone is happiness below, he cannot reasonably mean that moral virtue is formally and precisely happiness, but only that it is indispensable to happiness, and presupposed, as the base of a tower is presupposed to the spire. Moral virtue is more indispensable, but happiness is better. But the privation of happiness is a less evil than the privation of moral virtue. So it is less evil to have the spire blown down than to have the tower on which it rests blown up, although the spire is higher and nobler than the substructure. The doctrine of this chapter is in Aristotle, Nic. Eth. X, viii. CHAPTER XXXVII THAT THE FINAL HAPPINESS OF MAN CONSISTS IN THE CONTEMPLATION OF GODIF then the final happiness of man does not consist in those exterior advantages which are called goods of fortune, nor in goods of the body, nor in goods of the soul in its sentient part, nor in the intellectual part in respect of the moral virtues, nor in the virtues of the practical intellect, called art and prudence, it remains that the final happiness of man consists in the contemplation of truth. This act alone in man is proper to him, and is in no way shared by any other being in this world. This is sought for its own sake, and is directed to no other end beyond itself. By this act man is united in likeness with pure spirits, and even comes to know them in a certain way. For this act also man is more self-sufficient, having less need of external things. Likewise to this act all other human activities seem to be directed as to their end. For to the perfection of contemplation there is requisite health of body; and all artificial necessaries of life are means to health. Another requisite is rest from the disturbing forces of passion: that is attained by means of the moral virtues and prudence. Likewise rest from exterior troubles, which is the whole aim of civil life and government. Thus, if we look at things rightly, we may see that all human occupations seem to be ministerial to the service of the contemplators of truth.

• From History of the Christian Church: The Complete Set of Eight Volumes (1858)

  The poetical legend of the seven brothers at Ephesus, who fell asleep in a cave, whither they had fled, and awoke two hundred years afterwards, under Theodosius II. (447), astonished to see the once despised and hated cross now ruling over city and country, dates itself internally from the time of Decius, but is not mentioned before Gregory of Tours in the sixth century. Under Gallus (251–253) the persecution received a fresh impulse thorough the incursions of the Goths, and the prevalence of a pestilence, drought, and famine. Under this reign the Roman bishops Cornelius and Lucius were banished, and then condemned to death. Valerian (253–260) was at first mild towards the Christians; but in 257 he changed his course, and made an effort to check the progress of their religion without bloodshed, by the banishment of ministers and prominent laymen, the confiscation of their property, and the prohibition of religious assemblies. These measures, however, proving fruitless, he brought the death penalty again into play. The most distinguished martyrs of this persecution under Valerian are the bishops Sixtus II. of Rome, and Cyprian of Carthage. When Cyprian received his sentence of death, representing him as an enemy of the Roman gods and laws, he calmly answered: "Deo gratias!" Then, attended by a vast multitude to the scaffold, he proved once more, undressed himself, covered his eyes, requested a presbyter to bind his hands, and to pay the executioner, who tremblingly drew the sword, twenty-five pieces of gold, and won the incorruptible crown (Sept. 14, 258). His faithful friends caught the blood in handkerchiefs, and buried the body of their sainted pastor with great solemnity. Gibbon describes the martyrdom of Cyprian with circumstantial minuteness, and dwells with evident satisfaction on the small decorum which attended his execution. But this is no fair average specimen of the style in which Christians were executed throughout the empire. For Cyprian was a man of the highest social standing and connection from his former eminence, as a rhetorician and statesman. His deacon, Pontius relates that "numbers of eminent and illustrious persons, men of mark family and secular distinction, often urged him, for the sake of their old friendship with him, to retire." We shall return to Cyprian again in the history of church government, where he figures as a typical, ante-Nicene high-churchman, advocating both the visible unity of the church and episcopal independence of Rome. The much lauded martyrdom of the deacon St. Laurentius of Rome, who pointed the avaricious magistrates to the poor and sick of the congregation as the richest treasure of the church, and is said to have been slowly roasted to death (Aug. 10, 258) is scarcely reliable in its details, being first mentioned by Ambrose a century later, and then glorified by the poet Prudentius. A Basilica on the Via Tiburtina celebrates the memory of this saint, who occupies the same position among the martyrs of the church of Rome as Stephen among those of Jerusalem.

• From History of the Christian Church: The Complete Set of Eight Volumes (1858)

  The day was transferred from the seventh to the first day of the week, not on the ground of a particular command, but by the free spirit of the gospel and by the power of certain great facts which he at the foundation of the Christian church. It was on that day that Christ rose from the dead; that he appeared to Mary, the disciples of Emmaus, and the assembled apostles; that he poured out his Spirit and founded the church;690 and that he revealed to his beloved disciple the mysteries of the future. Hence, the first day was already in the apostolic age honorably designated as "the Lord’s Day." On that day Paul met with the disciples at Troas and preached till midnight. On that day he ordered the Galatian and Corinthian Christians to make, no doubt in connection with divine service, their weekly contributions to charitable objects according to their ability. It appears, therefore, from the New Testament itself, that Sunday was observed as a day of worship, and in special commemoration of the Resurrection, whereby the work of redemption was finished.691 The universal and uncontradicted Sunday observance in the second century can only be explained by the fact that it had its roots in apostolic practice. Such observance is the more to be appreciated as it had no support in civil legislation before the age of Constantine, and must have been connected with many inconveniences, considering the lowly social condition of the majority of Christians and their dependence upon their heathen masters and employers. Sunday thus became, by an easy and natural transformation, the Christian Sabbath or weekly day of rest, at once answering the typical import of the Jewish Sabbath, and itself forming in turn a type of the eternal rest of the people of God in the heavenly Canaan.692 In the gospel dispensation the Sabbath is not a degradation, but an elevation, of the week days to a higher plane, looking to the consecration of all time and all work. It is not a legal ceremonial bondage, but rather a precious gift of grace, a privilege, a holy rest in God in the midst of the unrest of the world, a day of spiritual refreshing in communion with God and in the fellowship of the saints, a foretaste and pledge of the never-ending Sabbath in heaven. The due observance of it, in which the churches of England, Scotland, and America, to their incalculable advantage, excel the churches of the European continent, is a wholesome school of discipline, a means of grace for the people, a safeguard of public morality and religion, a bulwark against infidelity, and a source of immeasurable blessing to the church, the state, and the family. Next to the Church and the Bible, the Lord’s Day is the chief pillar of Christian society. Besides the Christian Sunday, the Jewish Christians observed their ancient Sabbath also, till Jerusalem was destroyed. After that event, the Jewish habit continued only among the Ebionites and Nazarenes.

• From Fragments (7)

  Like Croesus* riches pleasant Is my contentment deep. With ivy o*er my temples, ni sing a graceful song; My mind on all things tramples. Pour in — to drink I long. A cup do to me carry: Than lying dead, my boy, 'Tis better to-be merry, And lie one's drink to enjoy. 147 Lyric Songs of the Greets TO DIONYSUS OR TO WINE (47) Whenever Bacchus, son of Zeus, Lyaeus, who our cares doth loose, The giver of wine, my spirit reaches, Then he to me blithe dances teaches. But something gladsome also is mine, I, who a lover am of wine: Venus me too with song entrances; Again will I take part in dances. TO A SYMPOSIUM (48) Whenever I am drinking wine. Then warm becomes this heart of mine. With strains that clear like crystal ring Of Muses I begin to sing. Whenever I am drinking wine. Then to the winds which beat the brine Of the Ocean do my cares depart, All sombre counsels of my heart. Whenever I am drinking wine, Then Bacchus, author of sport divine, Stirs me, who doth in drink delight, Through breezes charged with flowers bright. 148 Anacreontea Whenever I am drinking wine, Then wreaths with flowers I entwine; I place them on my head and sing Of life as calm as balmy spring. Whenever I am drinking wine, With fragrant ointment then I shine. And, with a maiden in my arms, I sing of Aphrodite's charms. Whenever I am drinking wine, My mind unfolds with joy divine; Under the hollow cups I long For ple'asures of the youthful throng. Whenever I am drinking wine. No other gain do I feel mine: With this alone away 111 go; For death all mortals layetfi low. TO A MAIDEN (49) Maiden, when thou seest That my hair is gray, That thou therefore fleest Not from me, I pray. And because with beauty Thee thy youth imbues, Deem it not thy duty, My gifts to refuse. 149 Lyric Songs of the Greeks See how charming posies Do our hearts delight When in them are roses Mixed with lilies white. ON LIVING WITHOUT WORRY (50) Why teachest thou the laws to me, And orators' necessities, And all the useless vanity Of all these words which cannot please? To drink sweet wine teach thou, I pray; With golden Venus to delight Myself in sportive frolic gay. The hair which crowns my head is white. Bring water, boy, wine to me give, So that my sleeping soul may rest. Shortly I too no more shall live; No pleasures for the dead have zest. TO HIMSELF (51) Whenever I young men behold. My youth to me returns; Within me then, though I am old. My heart for dances yearns. 150 Anacreontea Cybebe, I am in frenzied rage; To wreath myself I long. I'll dance, while stripping off old age, A youth among the young. That I an old man's strength may show,

• From Under the Banner of Heaven (2003)

  , a magnificent, family-oriented production,” replete with arresting special effects straight out of Hollywood: “volcanoes, fireballs, and explosions with sound effects from the movie ‘Earthquake.’ A prophet is burned at the stake. Lightning strikes the mast of a ship. A 5,000K carbon arc-light ‘star’ (with FAA clearance) appears at the Nativity scene. Christ appears in the night sky, descends, teaches the people, then ascends into the night sky and disappears.” The pageant, which has been staged here since 1937, is held for seven nights every July, and draws near-capacity crowds each night. Admission is free. As dusk settles, the soothing harmonies of the Utah Symphony Orchestra and Mormon Tabernacle Choir drift over the field from concert loudspeakers. Two squads of sheriff’s deputies direct traffic into pastures that have been transformed into vast parking lots. A surging tide of Saints is now moving from their cars and chartered buses toward the seats, and as they traverse Highway 21 to reach the meadow beneath Cumorah they are confronted with grim-faced clumps of anti-Mormon picketers. The demonstrators, who belong to evangelical Christian denominations, wave hand-lettered placards and shout angrily at the Mormons: “Joseph Smith was a whoremonger!” “There is only one gospel!” “The Book of Mormon is a big fairy tale!” “Mormons are NOT Christians!” Most of the Mormons stroll quietly past the ranting evangelicals, unperturbed, without rising to the bait. “Oh, gosh, we’re used to that kind of thing,” says Brother Richard, a wide, cheerful man with liver spots and a comb-over, who brags that he has twenty-eight grandchildren. He and his wife drove here in a thirty-seven-foot Pace Arrow from Mesa, Arizona. This is their eighth visit to the pageant. “Come the judgment, we’ll see who winds up in the Celestial Kingdom and who doesn’t,” Richard muses. “But just between you and me? Them folks waving the signs is the ones that should be worried.” As this thought escapes his lips, the glint in his eye momentarily vanishes and his guileless face darkens with pity. “The Lord allows everyone to choose for themselves whether to see the truth or ignore it. You can’t force a man to heaven, even though it’s for his own good.” The LDS Church produces the Hill Cumorah Pageant at no small expense. Although non-Saints are encouraged to attend, and the church considers the flamboyant shows a powerful tool in its tireless efforts to convert the world, more than 95 percent of the people in attendance belong to the church already. Mostly the pageant functions as a Mormon jamboree, an occasion for members of the tribe to gather at their place of origin and celebrate one another’s testimonies of faith. The pageant has the energy of a Phish concert, but without the drunkenness, outlandish hairdos (Brother Richard’s comb-over notwithstanding), or clouds of marijuana smoke. People started arriving hours ago to claim the best seats.

• From History of the Christian Church: The Complete Set of Eight Volumes (1858)

  The Reformation has changed the moral ideal, and elevated domestic and social life. The mediaeval ideal of piety is the flight from the evil world: the modern ideal is the transformation of the world. The model saint of the Roman Church is the monk separated from the enjoyments and duties of society, and anticipating the angelic life in heaven where men neither marry nor are given in marriage: the model saint of the Evangelical Church is the free Christian and useful citizen, who shows his piety in the performance of social and domestic duties, and aims at the sanctification of the ordinances of nature. The former tries to conquer the world by running away from its temptations—though after all he cannot escape the flesh, the world, and the Devil in his own heart: the latter tries to conquer the world by converting it. The one abstains from the wedding feast: the other attends it, and changes the water into wine. The one flees from woman as a tempter: the other takes her to his heart, and reflects in the marriage relation the holy union of Christ with his Church. The one aims to secure, chastity by abstinence: the other proves it within the family. The one renounces all earthly possessions: the other uses them for the good of his fellow-men. The one looks for happiness in heaven: the other is happy already on earth by making others happy. The daily duties and trials of domestic and social life are a better school of moral discipline than monkish celibacy and poverty. Female virtues and graces are necessary to supplement and round out the character of man. Exceptions there are, but they prove the rule. It may be expected that in the fervor and hurry of the first attempts in the transition from slavery to freedom, some indiscretions were committed; but they are as nothing compared with the secret chronique scandaleuse of enforced celibacy. It was reserved for later times to cultivate a more refined style of family life; but the Reformers burst the chains of papal tyranny, and furnished the practical proof that it is possible to harmonize the highest and holiest calling with the duties of husband and father. Though falling short of modern Protestant ideas of the dignity and rights of woman, they made her the rightful companion of the Christian pastor; and among those companions may be found many of the purest, most refined, and most useful women on earth. The social standing of woman is a true test of Christian civilization. Melanchthon was the first among the Reformers who entered the state of matrimony; but being a layman, he violated no priestly or monastic vow. He married, at the urgent request of his friends, Katharina Krapp, the daughter of the burgomaster of Wittenberg, in November, 1520, and lived with his plain, pious, faithful, and benevolent wife, till her death in 1557. He was seen at times rocking the cradle while reading a book.614

• From Fragments (7)

  A furrow she behind her draws, As she skims o'er them lightly; Just like a delicate flower she goes. While calm is beaming brightly. The wave which o'er her soft neck heaves. And o'er her breasts like roses, She vigorously before her cleaves. Nor long it her op]>oses. And in the furrow right between Cypris, like lilies' whiteness 154 Anacreontea With violets entwined, is seen Through the cahn's peaceful brightness. On dancing dolphins Love doth ride, And Eros, gaily smiling; Pothos o*er silvery waves doth glide, His playful steed beguiling. And shoals of tumbling fishes gay Over the waves are skimming; Near smiling Paphia they play. As she is onward swimming. TO GOLD 56 When gold, the fugitive runner fleet. Doth me to flee endeavor Upon his swift tempestuous feet — Well, let him shun me ever — rU never follow him; for who Would such a hateful thing pursue? But, since I far away have strolled. And gave my grief to carry Upon the wind to fugitive gold. Now I again am merry: Into my hands I take my lyre. And love I let my song inspire. But when my mincf again brings me Some insolent aspiration, 155 Lyric Songs of the Greeks Then comes the fugitive suddenly With mental intoxication, That I seize him — 'tis his desire I should forget my dainty lyre. Ah ! faithless, faithless gold, by stealth Thou vainly tryest to harm me; The bow-strings more than golden wealth With love — pray, listen — charm me. For envy, love of treachery Doth reach the mind of man through thee. But, mixing cups which do not grieve, Of love and trusty kisses. These all the lyre doth to us give. Thee when thou wilt, one misses. However, naught could me beguile To leave my lyre a little while. Thou crafty stranger dost admire Far more than all the Muses; The heart of me who plays the lyre The Muse as dwelling uses. Would that her echoes here ring bright, And that she sends us gleaming light. TO WINE (57, 1.I-I3) Men and maidens both make merry. When in baskets grapes they bring, And them on the shoulders carry. And into the wjne-vats fling. 156 Anacreontea wm Men alone the purple grapes Press, so that the wine escapes. To the god they sing loud praises, Vintage songs; upon the juice, As it bubbles, each one gazes. At the jars; but through its use E*en the trembling gray-haired dare Now to dance and shake their hair. TO APOLLO (S8) I shall arouse my slumbering lyre : 'Tis not a contest for a prize. But there is need of exercise For those who wisdom's flower desire. I to my plectrum's strokes shall sing In Phrygian rhythms a loud clear song; Just as with flapping wings the swan. Friend of the winds, his strains lets ring. Thou, Muse, to join our dance be moved ; For tripod, laurel, and the lyre, To Phoebus sacred, me inspire

• From History of the Christian Church: The Complete Set of Eight Volumes (1858)

  Marcus Aurelius, the last and best representative of Stoicism, ruled the Roman Empire for twenty years (A.D. 161–180) at the height of its power and prosperity. He was born April 26, 121, in Rome, and carefully educated and disciplined in Stoic wisdom. Hadrian admired him for his good nature, docility, and veracity, and Antoninus Pius adopted him as his son and successor. He learned early to despise the vanities of the world, maintained the simplicity of a philosopher in the splendor of the court, and found time for retirement and meditation amid the cares of government and border wars, in which he was constantly engaged. Epictetus was his favorite author. He left us his best thoughts, a sort of spiritual autobiography, in the shape of a diary which he wrote, not without some self-complacency, for his own improvement and enjoyment during the last years of his life (172–175) in the military camp among the barbarians. He died in Panonia of the pestilence which raged in the army (March 17, 180).576 His last words were: "Weep not for me, weep over the pestilence and the general misery,577 and save the army. Farewell!" He dismissed his servants and friends, even his son, after a last interview, and died alone.

• From History of the Christian Church: The Complete Set of Eight Volumes (1858)

  He avoids the optative, and all argumentative particles, but uses very frequently the simple particles kaiv, dev, ou|n, i{na. His most characteristic particle in the narrative portions is "therefore" (ou|n¼, which i" with him not syllogistic »like a[ra and its compounds), but indicative simply of continuation and retrospect (like "so" and "then" or the German "nun"), yet with the idea that nothing happens without a cause; while the particle "in order that" (i{na) indicates that nothing happens without a purpose. He avoids the relative pronoun and prefers the connecting "and" with the repetition of the noun, as "In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God .... In him was life, and the life was the light of men." The "and" sometimes takes the place of "but," as "The light shineth in the darkness, and the darkness comprehended it not" (John 1:5). We look in vain for such important words as church, gospel, repentance (metavnoia), but the substance is there in different forms. He does not even use the noun "faith" (pivsti"), which frequently occurs in the Synoptists and in Paul, but he uses the verb "to believe" (pisteuvein) ninety-eight times, about twice as often as all three Synoptists together. He applies the significant term Logos (ratio and oratio) to Christ as the Revealer and the Interpreter of God (1:18), but only in the Prologue, and such figurative designations as "the Light of the world," "the Bread of life," "the Good Shepherd," "the Vine," "the Way," "the Truth," and "the Life." He alone uses the double "Verily" in the discourses of the Saviour. He calls the Holy Spirit the "Paraclete" or "Advocate" of believers, who pleads their cause here on earth, as Christ pleads it on the throne in heaven. There breathes through this book an air of calmness and serenity, of peace and repose, that seems to come from the eternal mansions of heaven.1059 Is such a style compatible with the hypothesis of a post- and pseudo-apostolic fiction? We have a large number of fictitious Gospels, but they differ as much from the fourth canonical Gospel as midnight darkness from noonday brightness. Authorship.

• From History of the Christian Church: The Complete Set of Eight Volumes (1858)

  In regard to the importance and the necessity of prayer, as the pulse and thermometer of spiritual life, the ancient church had but one voice. Here the plainest and the most enlightened Christians met; the apostolic fathers, the steadfast apologists, the realistic Africans, and the idealistic Alexandrians. Tertullian sees in prayer the daily sacrifice of the Christian, the bulwark of faith, the weapon against all the enemies of the soul. The believer should not go to his bath nor take his food without prayer; for the nourishing and refreshing of the spirit must precede that of the body, and the heavenly must go before the earthly. "Prayer," says he, "blots out sins, repels temptations, quenches persecutions, comforts, the desponding, blesses the high-minded, guides the wanderers, calms the billows, feeds the poor, directs the rich, raises the fallen, holds up the falling, preserves them that stand." Cyprian requires prayer by day and by night; pointing to heaven, where we shall never cease to pray and give thanks. The same father, however, falls already into that false, unevangelical view, which represents prayer as a meritorious work and a satisfaction to be rendered to God.675 Clement of Alexandria conceives the life of a genuine Christian as an unbroken prayer. "In every place he will pray, though not openly, in the sight of the multitude. Even on his walks, in his intercourse with others, in silence, in reading, and in labor, he prays in every way. And though he commune with God only in the chamber of his soul, and call upon the Father only with a quiet sigh, the Father is near him." The same idea we find in Origen, who discourses in enthusiastic terms of the mighty inward and outward effects of prayer, and with all his enormous learning, regards prayer as the sole key to the spiritual meaning of the Scriptures. The order of human life, however, demands special times for this consecration of the every-day business of men. The Christians generally followed the Jewish usage, observed as times of prayer the hours of nine, twelve, and three, corresponding also to the crucifixion of Christ, his death, and his descent from the cross; the cock-crowing likewise, and the still hour of midnight they regarded as calls to prayer. With prayer for their own welfare, they united intercessions for the whole church, for all classes of men, especially for the sick and the needy, and even for the unbelieving. Polycarp enjoins on the church of Philippi to pray for all the saints, for kings and rulers, for haters and persecutors, and for the enemies of the cross. "We pray," says Tertullian, "even for the emperors and their ministers, for the holders of power on earth, for the repose of all classes, and for the delay of the end of the world."

• From The Well of Loneliness (1928)

  Then one morning she had a bright inspiration: “Come up, horse!’ she commanded, slapping the pony, ‘Come up, horse, and let me get close to your ear, ’cause I’m going to whisper something dreadfully important.’ Laying her cheek against his firm neck she said softly: ‘ You’re not you any more, you're Collins! ’ So Collins was comfortably transmigrated. It was Stephen’s last effort to remember. 2 Came the day when Stephen rode out with her father to a meet, a glorious and memorable day. Side by side the two of them jogged through the gates, and the lodgekeeper’s wife must smile to see Stephen sitting her smart bay pony astride, and looking so comically like Sir Philip. “It do be a pity as her isn’t a boy, our young lady,’ she told her husband. It was one of those still, slightly frosty mornings when the landing is tricky on the north side of the hedges; when the smoke from farm chimneys rises straight as a ramrod; when the scent of log fires or of burning brushwood, though left far behind, still persists in the nostrils. A crystal clear morning, like a draught of spring water, and such mornings are good when one is young. The pony tugged hard and fought at his bridle; he was trembling with pleasure for he was no novice; he knew all about signs and wonders in stables, such as large feeds of corn ad- ministered early, and extra long groomings, and pink coats with brass buttons, like the hunt coat Sir Philip was wearing. He frisked down the road, a mass of affectation, demanding some skill on the part of his rider; but the child’s hands were strong THE WELL OF LONELINESS 39 yet exceedingly gentle — she possessed that rare gift, perfect hands on a horse. ‘ This is better than being young Nelson,’ thought Stephen, ‘cause this way I’m happy just being myself.’ Sir Philip looked down at his daughter with contentment; she was good to look upon, he decided. And yet his contentment was not quite complete, so that he looked away again quickly, sighing a little, because, somehow these days, he had taken to sighing over Stephen. The meet was a large one. People noticed the child; Colonel Antrim, the Master, rode up and spoke kindly: ‘ You’ve a fine pony there, but he’ll need a bit of holding!’ And then to her father: “Is she safe astride, Philip? Violet’s learning to ride, but side-saddle, I prefer it—I never think girl children get the grip astride; they aren’t built for it, haven’t the necessary muscle; still, no doubt she’ll stick on by balance.’

• From Saint Thomas Aquinas Collection (22 Books) (2016)

  I answer that as Augustine states (De Civ. Dei xxii, 26) Porphyry held that the human soul in order to be perfectly happy must avoid all bodies, so that in his opinion the soul cannot be united to the body in the state of perfect bliss. Origen (Peri Archon) refers to this opinion when he says that some maintained that the saints would eventually lay aside the bodies resumed at the resurrection, so that being made like God they might live in perfect happiness. This opinion, besides being contrary to faith (as may be gathered both from the authorities quoted and from many others), is also contrary to reason. For there can be no perfect happiness where nature itself is not perfect. And since the union of soul and body is natural, besides being substantial and not accidental, the soul’s nature cannot be perfect unless it be united to the body: wherefore the soul separated from the body cannot have the ultimate perfection of beatitude. For this reason Augustine (De Gen. ad lit. xii, 35) says that the souls of the blessed do not as perfectly enjoy the sight of God before the resurrection as after: wherefore the human body will need to be united to the soul in the final state of beatitude. The above-mentioned opinion is a sequel to the position of those who hold that the soul is united to the body accidentally, as a sailor to his ship or a man to his clothes. For this reason Plato, as Gregory of Nyssa relates (De Anima x), said that man is a soul clothed with a body. But this cannot stand: for man would not be a per se being but an accidental being: nor would he be in the genus of substance but in that of accident, as being something clothed or shod. Moreover it is evident that the arguments given above which refer to mixed bodies, cannot apply to man: because man is ordained to the perfection of the universe as an essential part thereof, since there is in him something that is not even virtually contained either in the elements or in the heavenly bodies, namely the rational soul. Again man’s body is ordained to him, not only in his animal life but for the perfection of his nature. And although his body is composed of contrary elements it will contain an incorruptible principle, that Will be able to preserve it without violence, inasmuch as it is intrinsic to him. And it will suffice as a principle of movement when the heavenly movement ceases, since it does not depend on the latter. Reply to the First Objection. Flesh and blood signify the corruption of these things, wherefore the text continues: Neither shall corruption possess incorruption. Reply to the Second Objection. Movement causes mixture in the making: but its preservation comes from the substantial form, and besides, from principles yet higher than the heavens. This has been explained in previous articles.

• From Saint Thomas Aquinas Collection (22 Books) (2016)

  Three reasons go to prove that this is the case. First, because by the exercise of the moral virtues the passions are restrained. Secondly, because religious can show mercy to others by teaching and correcting, or by visiting the sick and comforting the sorrowful, be they seculars or religious of their own monastery. Thus they can verify the words of St. James (1:27), “Religion clean and undefiled before God and the Father is this: to visit the fatherless and the widow in their tribulation, and to keep one’s self unspotted from this world.” The third reason why religious share with seculars in the active life is because, at their entry into religion, they distributed their worldly possessions to the poor. It is not, therefore, because the precepts belong only to the active life that the Gloss says that the Commandments are the duty of the active, and the Counsels of the contemplative life. St. Gregory writes: “To live a contemplative life is to bear in mind with all diligence, charity to God and to our neighbour, which are the great precepts of the Law. The Counsels dispose the soul more particularly to the contemplative life. For without them, the mere observance of the Precepts will not suffice for contemplation, which requires greater perfection.” No one need remain in the world for the sake of leading an active life; for in religion he can have quite as much exercise in the active life as is necessary to dispose him for the contemplative. The eighth argument, viz. that “no one arrives at once at the highest point,” is not much to the purpose, although great stress is laid upon it. For we may consider the highest and the lowest either as referring to the same condition and to the same man, or to different conditions and different men. If we consider these degrees as referring to the same condition and the same man, it is quite evident that no one arrives at once at the highest point; for every virtuous man is, during the whole course of his life, making progress towards perfection. But if these degrees are considered with regard to different conditions, there is no reason why a man should not fill the highest post without having served in an inferior capacity. It is not necessary for a cleric to have lived as a layman; for some men are admitted in their boyhood into the ranks of the clergy. Neither is the saying that no one reaches the highest point at once true, if we consider it as referring to different people; for one man may start from a degree of holiness far higher than that to which another will attain throughout the whole course of his life. St. Gregory says (Dialog. 11): “in order that all his contemporaries and all succeeding generations might know to what a height of perfection the child Benedict had arrived, when he received the grace of conversion.”