108 Quotes by Thomas De Quincey

  • Author Thomas De Quincey
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    I stood checked for a moment – awe, not fear, fell upon me – and whist I stood, a solemn wind began to blow, the most mournful that ever ear heard. Mournful! That is saying nothing. It was a wind that had swept the fields of mortality for a hundred centuries.

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  • Author Thomas De Quincey
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    Surely everyone is aware of the divine pleasures which attend a wintry fireside; candles at four o’clock, warm hearthrugs, tea, a fair tea-maker, shutters closed, curtains flowing in ample draperies to the floor, whilst the wind and rain are raging audibly without.

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  • Author Thomas De Quincey
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    For my own part, without breach of truth or modesty, I may affirm that my life has been, on the whole, the life of a philosopher: from my birth I was made an intellectual creature, and intellectual in the highest sense my pursuits and pleasures have been, even from my schoolboy days.

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  • Author Thomas De Quincey
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    Ideas! There is no occasion for them; all that class of ideas which can be available in such a case has a language of representative feelings.

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  • Author Thomas De Quincey
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    Flowers that are so pathetic in their beauty, frail as the clouds, and in their coloring as gorgeous as the heavens, had through thousands of years been the heritage of children – honored as the jewelry of God...

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  • Author Thomas De Quincey
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    The silence was more profound than that of midnight; and to me the silence of a summer morning is more touching than all other silence.

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  • Author Thomas De Quincey
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    Under our present enormous accumulation of books, I do affirm that a most miserable distraction of choice must be very generally incident to the times; that the symptoms of it are in fact very prevalent, and that one of the chief symptoms is an enormous ‘gluttonism’ for books.

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  • Author Thomas De Quincey
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    Oh! just, subtle, and mighty opium! that to the hearts of poor and rich alike, for the wounds that will never heal, and for ‘the pangs that tempt the spirit to rebel,’ bringest an assuaging balm; eloquent opium! that with thy potent rhetoric stealest away the purposes of wrath; and to the guilty man, for one night givest back the hopes of his youth, and hands washed pure of blood...

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