A man perfects himself by working. Foul jungles are cleared away, fair seed-fields rise instead, and stately cities; and with the man himself first ceases to be a jungle, and foul unwholesome desert thereby. The man is now a man. — Thomas Carlyle Copy Share Image
O thou that pinest in the imprisonment of the Actual, and criest bitterly to the gods for a kingdom wherein to rule and create,… — Thomas Carlyle Copy Share Image
No sadder proof can be given by a man of his own littleness than disbelief in great men. — Thomas Carlyle Copy Share Image
Fame, we may understand, is no sure test of merit, but only a probability of such: it is an accident, not a property, of… — Thomas Carlyle Copy Share Image
Be a pattern to others, and then all will go well; for as a whole city is affected by the licentious passions and vices… — Thomas Carlyle Copy Share Image
The glory of a workman, still more of a master workman, that he does his work well, ought to be his most precious possession;… — Thomas Carlyle Copy Share Image
All human things do require to have an ideal in them; to have some soul in them. — Thomas Carlyle Copy Share Image
Insurrection, never so necessary, is a most sad necessity; and governors who wait for that to instruct them are surely getting into the fatalest… — Thomas Carlyle Copy Share Image
Let Time and Chance combine, combine! Let Time and Chance combine! The fairest love from heaven above, That love of yours was mine, My… — Thomas Carlyle Copy Share Image
