On the Art of Writing / Lectures delivered in the University of Cambridge 1913-1914
Man, the microcosm: on you, on me, on the tiny percipient centre upon which the immense cosmic circle focuses itself as the sun upon a burning-glass-and he is not
n the great pageant but 'the ring enclosing all,' the sole int
But I will quote you here two short passages from the work of a sort of poor relation of theirs, a humble Welsh parson of that time, Thomas Traherne- unknown un
never should be reaped, nor was ever sown. I thought it had stood from everlasting to everlasting. The dust and stones of the street were as precious as gold: the gates were at first the end of the world. The
ere mine, as much as their sparkling eyes, fair skins and ruddy faces. The skies were mine, and so we
h
foreign co
ure and my wea
did my he
call my Soul
ither we
roachin
he thres
n the unkno
d instinct
ldhood with a
force move
oys beyond the
ity I
ut of
ng here
t happine
me! F
ed absen
that sure be
something n
t (since naug
y Bliss d
did the i
reasures of th
mself was s
ll which round
it was:
Di
g enclo
upon this e
eaven
er than
ey all inc
Soul, that
ssess them
and litt
ce of which I promised you that
tself floweth in your veins, till you are cloth
I, any one of us-t
m caput tumul
s out in tune with the heavenly concert-a