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Have we ever sufficiently reflected that the purely negative philosophy has done nothing for idealism in any shape or form? It has inspired no art, music or poetry. With nothing to draw upon but the blind whirl of infinite atoms and infinite forces, of which man is himself the haphazard and highest production, it has contented itself with the elementary work of destruction, without even attempting to dig the foundations for anything which it is proposed to erect in the place of what has been destroyed. "Scepticism," says Carlyle, "is, after all, only half a magician. She calls up more spectres than she can lay." Scepticism was, nay is, sometimes, a necessary attitude of the human mind. But man cannot live on doubt alone, and therefore, though we profoundly believe the possibility of living the good life independently of religious sanctions, we unhesitatingly affirm the deep need man has of religious emotion to satisfy the ineradicable instinct of his nature towards communion with the unseen world. Here are the words of a man who had exhausted the possibilities of life before he wrote them, conveying in the simplest, though most penetrating way, a most momentous truth: "Fecisti nos Domine ad Te, et irrequiêtum est cor nostrum donec requiescat in Te". "Thou hast made us, O Lord, for Thyself, and our heart is restless until it find rest in Thee." And if we would have a modern commentary upon this saying of the fourth century writer, Augustine of Hippo, here are a few words of Victor Hugo, spoken in the French Parliament of the forties: "Dieu se retrouve
Ce qu'il y a de remarquable c'est qu'on retrouve les memes mots dans les endroits les plus eloignes, des mots Anglais et Francais qui ont leur origine dans le Sanskrit; et de meme pour d'autres idiomes.
De la pierre calcaire dans laquelle sont déposés des espèces de noyaux oblongs, quelques fois par couches, mais sans suite, composés d'un sable fin de couleurs grisâtre, plus blanc que la pierre calcaire, très-durs, faisant feu au briquet, et sans effervescence avec les acides. On retrouve encore des couches minces sablonneuses mêlées de parties calcaires.
'Ta voie a été par la mer et tes sentiers dans les grosses eaux." "A la memoire de Pierre Le Pelley, Ecuyer, Seigneur de Serk, noyé près la Pointe du Nez, dans une Tempête, le 13 Mars, 1839, âgé de 40 ans. Son corps n'a pas été retrouvé; mais la mer rendra ses morts." "In memory of Eugène Grut Victor Cachemaille, second son of the Revd. J.L.V. Cachemaille, Vicar of Sark.
"Cependant le schiste n'est pas enseveli partout sous ces dépôts de la mer; on le retrouve en quelques endroits, et même avec de filons.
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