Tag Archives: Shakespeare

The Hatred of the World

If the world hate you, ye know that it hated me before it hated you. If ye were of the world, the world would love his own: but because ye are not of the world, but I have chosen you … Continue reading

Posted in antique Christianity, post-Christian rationalism, rationalism | Tagged ,

While Memory Holds a Seat

Seems, madam! Nay, it is; I know not “seems.” ‘Tis not alone my inky cloak, good mother, Nor customary suits of solemn black, Nor windy suspiration of forc’d breath, No, nor the fruitful river in the eye, Nor the dejected … Continue reading

Posted in blood faith, Christianity is neither a theory nor a philosophy, rationalism | Tagged

Hell on Earth

Lear. My wits begin to turn. Come on, my boy. How dost, my boy? Art cold? I am cold myself. Where is this straw, my fellow? The art of our necessities is strange, That can make vile things precious. Come, … Continue reading

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The Eyes of the Heart

Old Man. O, my good lord, I have been your tenant, and your father’s tenant, these fourscore years. Glou. Away, get thee away! Good friend, be gone; Thy comforts can do me no good at all; Thee they may hurt. Old Man. You … Continue reading

Posted in counterrevolution, White genocide | Tagged ,

What Is’t to Leave Betimes?

And they drew nigh unto the village, whither they went: and he made as though he would have gone further. But they constrained him, saying, Abide with us: for it is toward evening, and the day is far spent. And … Continue reading

Posted in Europe as the Christ-bearer, post-Christian rationalism, Propositional faith, restoration of European civilization | Tagged , ,

When Hope Seems Nearly Gone

The result of Hardy’s management was that Tom made a clean breast of it, telling everything, down to his night at the ragged school, and what an effect his chance opening of the Apology had had on him. Here for … Continue reading

Posted in Christianity is neither a theory nor a philosophy, Europe as the Christ-bearer, post-Christian rationalism | Tagged , ,

The Homeless Europeans

Kent. Alack, bareheaded? Gracious my lord, hard by here is a hovel; Some friendship will it lend you ‘gainst the tempest. Repose you there, whilst I to this hard house More harder than the stones whereof ’tis rais’d, Which even … Continue reading

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