Twelve Types"G. K. Chesterton's biographical essays provide unique portraits of 12 of Europe's most defining figures. Written by one of the world's master essayists, this collection richly expresses Chesterton's thoughts on Charlotte Brontë, William Morris, Byron, Pope, St. Francis of Assisi, Rostand, Charles II, Stevenson, Thomas Carlyle, Tolstoy, Savonarola, and Sir Walter Scott."--Google Books. |
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Common terms and phrases
admirable æsthetic alike ancient artificial artist ascetic asceticism asserts atheism Baildon beautiful believe Byron called Carlyle Carlyle's century character Charles Charles II Charlotte Brontë Christ Christian civilisation colour conception consists critic Cyrano Cyrano de Bergerac dark darkly wise denied dream eloquence enemy essential eternal ethics evil fact feel happiness heart hero worship heroic comedy human nature idea imagination instinct Jane Eyre kind literary literature logic Lord Randolph Churchill man's Master of Ballantrae matter merely modern monks moral mystic never optimistic passion perhaps pessimism pessimist philosophers pleasure poet poetical political Pope praise Puritanism rationalistic realist religion return to nature rhyme Robert Louis Stevenson romance Rostand satire Savonarola sceptic Scott sense simplicity soul speak spirit St Francis Stanley Weyman Stevenson story strange superficial supreme sword terrible theory things Tolstoy tragedy true truth uncon utterly virtues weakness whole William Morris words writer
Popular passages
Page 60 - Peace to all such ! but were there one whose fires True genius kindles, and fair fame inspires; Blest with each talent and each art to please, And born to write, converse, and live with ease : Should such a man, too fond to rule alone, Bear, like the Turk, no brother near the throne...
Page 65 - From quiet homes and first beginning, Out to the undiscovered ends, There's nothing worth the wear of winning, But laughter and the love of friends.
Page 61 - And born to write, converse, and live with ease: Should such a man, too fond to rule alone, Bear, like the Turk, no brother near the throne, View him with scornful, yet with jealous eyes, And hate for arts that caused himself to rise...
Page 64 - A Book of Verses underneath the Bough, \ A Jug of Wine, a Loaf of Bread — and Thou 1 Beside me singing in the Wilderness — / Oh, Wilderness were Paradise enow!
Page 43 - THERE'S not a joy the world can give like that it takes away, When the glow of early thought declines in feeling's dull decay ; 'Tis not on youth's smooth cheek the blush alone, which fades so fast, But the tender bloom of heart is gone, ere youth itself be past.
Page 195 - Ride your ways,' said the gipsy, 'ride your ways, Laird of Ellangowan — ride your ways, Godfrey Bertram! — This day have ye quenched seven smoking hearths — see if the fire in your ain parlour burn the blither for that. Ye have riven the thack off seven cottar houses — look if your ain roof-tree stand the faster.
Page 27 - There is a noble instinct for giving the right touch of beauty to common and necessary things, but the things that are so touched are the ancient things, the things that always to some extent commended themselves to the lover of beauty. There are beautiful gates, beautiful fountains, beautiful cups, beautiful chairs, beautiful reading-desks. But there are no modern things made beautiful. There are no beautiful lamp-posts, beautiful letter-boxes, beautiful engines, beautiful bicycles.
Page 101 - There were some moral and social values in his perfection in little things. He could not keep the Ten Commandments, but he kept the ten thousand commandments. His name is unconnected with any great acts of duty or sacrifice, but it is connected with a great many of those acts of magnanimous politeness, of a kind of dramatic delicacy which lie on the dim borderland between morality and art. GK Chesterton, Essays: 'Charles II'.
Page 183 - No genuine criticism of romance will ever arise until we have grasped the fact that romance lies not upon the outside of life, but absolutely in the centre of it. The centre of every man's existence is a dream. Death, disease, insanity, are merely material accidents, like toothache or a twisted ankle. That these brutal forces always besiege and often capture the citadel does not prove that they are the citadel. The boast of the realist (applying what the reviewers call his scalpel) is that he cuts...
Page 39 - ... Byron's love of the desolate and inhuman in nature was the mark of vital scepticism and depression. When a young man can elect deliberately to walk alone in winter by the side of the shattering sea, when he takes pleasure in storms and stricken peaks, and the lawless melancholy...