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Pride swells the brain. Vanity carries fumes, spirits into it. Hatred constricts the heart. Love heats the lung. Wonder suspends the heart. We draw breath through desire. We want to pump in everything that delights, dilates. Sadness is inaction.
The love that comes from the blood, that which comes from the soul.
July 5.
Passions. Through our intelligence and will, we can regulate their use and employment, but cannot moderate their excess or increase what is too little in them. This great work depends on another... Piety alone can do it. (It is an extensive feeling, reaching into all our humors...).
Permitted — but not to everyone.
July 6.
Innate notions: of the just and unjust, the beautiful and deformed, the fitting and what is not. Infused ideas: of God, matter, and spirit, etc. etc.
July 7.
Sneezes of the mind. The palace of sneezes.
July 8.
Not every truth is good to tell. For, told alone and in isolation, it may lead to error and false consequences. But all truths would be good to tell if we told them together and had an equal facility for persuading others of them all at once.
“My son,” mothers say to their children, “if you loved me, you would not do this and this.” Yet the child knows that he loves his mother, and the mother that she is loved by her son. The one, speaking thus, uses skill, not falsehood. And the other, allowing himself to be drawn by such words, acts with tender and just condescension, not with blind and imbecile stupidity.
We are the children of religion. In speaking to us thus, she treats us as a mother. In listening to her, we observe the rules of our nature, keep to our place, act as we ought.
By the nature of our mind we are led and compelled to make a substance and a sort of individual out of everything we wish to perceive distinctly. The laws of thought and of intellectual optics subject us to this necessity.
The soul, like the body, has a visual faculty, a tactile one, an olfactory one, etc., subject to the same fate.
Why beasts have no piety. It is because they have no soul. Piety proves something divine in us.
Bonaparte in Milan. His speech to the patriots.
The soul animates the body by the application of itself.