Thomas Percy public
[search 0]
More

Download the App!

show episodes
 
The last of the famous "Scarlet Pimpernel" books, the "Triumph" tells the story of the final confrontation between the Scarlet Pimpernel and his nemesis, Chauvelin. Set at the end of the Reign of Terror, the fortunes of all rise and fall along with the French Revolutionary government. (Summary by Beth Thomas) Cast list: Narrator: Bob Neufeld Scarlet Pimpernel/Sir Percy: Jason Mills Theresia Cabarrus: Amanda Friday Chauvelin: Bob Neufeld Marguerite Blakeney: Arielle Lipshaw Soothsayer (an old ...
 
"ASMR" for the SMAR-t. A soothing, soporific, non-pharmaceutical aide with which to ease your descent into sleep. Pass an hour with me, and you’ll hear read in a sweet, soft, tranquil voice, the greatest works to which voice can be given. Each selection is a classic--each a delight. Simply immerse yourself in the genius of their authorship, bathe in the voice by which they're given fresh life, and enjoy, if only for an hour, these timeless texts.
 
A new podcast for every day of the year, in which we present our most cogent, reasoned, and occasionally shouty arguments to decide what each date should be best remembered for. Every episode features fun historical facts, a vote on the winner, and tearful recriminations.
 
The Reign of King Edward the Third is an Elizabethan play printed anonymously in 1596. It has frequently been claimed that it was at least partly written by William Shakespeare, a view that Shakespeare scholars have increasingly endorsed. The rest of the play was probably written by Thomas Kyd. The play contains many gibes at Scotland and the Scottish people, which has led some critics to think that it is the work that incited George Nicolson, Queen Elizabeth's agent in Edinburgh, to protest ...
 
Loading …
show series
 
“To the music of his strings he sang, and all the bloodless spirits wept to hear; and Tantalus forgot the fleeing water, Ixion’s wheel was tranced; Sisyphus sat rapt upon his stone and the Furies’ cheeks, it’s said, were wet with tears; And Hades’ queen and He whose scepter rules the Underworld could not deny the prayer, and called Eurydice.” Such …
 
“The days began to fly now, and yet each one of them was stretched by renewed expectations and swollen with silent, private experiences. Yes, time is a puzzling thing, there is something about it that is hard to explain”. It’s positively bewildering. Indeed, the difficulty in explaining it is only increased as one reaches the heights of the Magic M…
 
“The earth is all before me: with a heart joyous, nor scared at its own liberty, I look about, and should the guide I choose be nothing better than a wandering cloud, I cannot miss my way”. Let us mount that wayward nimbus, upon whose broad back we leap to climb, if only to seek the sunrise of a fresh and glorious day. Let us follow that venturesom…
 
“I welcome truth, I fondle it, in whosesoever hand I find it; I surrender to it cheerfully, welcoming it with my vanquished arms as soon as I see it approaching from afar”. With the exception of love, and perhaps beauty, truth is the only power to which, once beaten, we can’t but gladly submit. We smile as we bow our heads in its royal presence, an…
 
“To my taste, the most fruitful and most natural exercise of our minds is conversation. I find the practice of it the most delightful activity in our lives. In their academies, the Athenians, and even more the Romans, maintained this exercise in great honor”. In our own times, however, we’ve all but forgotten this delightful art—this melodious exch…
 
‘The Europeans,’ answered Imlac, ‘are less unhappy than we, but they are not happy. Human life is everywhere a state in which much is to be endured, and little to be enjoyed’. Alas, is this not the divine punishment for our original transgression?—the terrible consequence of our old, Edenic sin? Were our first parents not warned against tasting of …
 
“Every profound thinker is more afraid of being understood than of being misunderstood. The latter may perhaps wound his vanity; but the former will wound his heart”. For those of us still engaged in the grand, century-old philosophical autopsy of Friedrich Nietzsche, an inexhaustible examination for which, truly, the pathologist is as much needed …
 
“Be like them! Become mediocre!”—is henceforth the only morality that has any meaning left, that still finds ears to hear it. But it is difficult to preach, this morality of mediocrity!” Difficult to preach, yes, but also difficult to swallow. And he who tastes this bitter pill can’t but cough, and, after having cleared his throat, ask with shallow…
 
“A great poem is a fountain forever overflowing with the waters of wisdom and delight; and after one person and one age has exhausted all its divine effluence, another and yet another succeeds”. Our thirst for such high poetry is, in a word, unslakable. We’ll bedew our lips with no lesser type. For this, we thank God, or some superintending muse, f…
 
“Poetry is a sword of lightning ever unsheathed, which consumes the scabbard that would contain it”. * Tis’ an unalloyed, ethereal blade, a bold dagger around which no mortal sheathe could wrap. Tis’ an electric sword, a flaming rod of steel, a keen weapon wielded by the tireless Uriel. He is, after all, the immobile, unblinking angel, the stolid c…
 
“A poet is a nightingale who sits in darkness, and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds; his auditors are as men entranced by the melody of an unseen musician, who feel that they are moved and softened, yet know not whence or why”. * May we never know how highly perched above us the nightingale nests, nor in what tenebrous darkness the…
 
“I have seen the softness and beauty of the summer clouds floating feathery overhead, enjoying, as it seemed, their height and privilege of motion, whilst yet they appeared not so much the drapery of this place and hour, as forelooking to some pavilions and gardens of festivity beyond”. Might we not also gain admittance to this distant, empyrean pl…
 
"The incommunicable trees begin to persuade us to live with them, and quit our life of solemn trifles. Here no history, or church, or state, is interpolated on the divine sky and the immortal year". Let us, at long last, heed their arboreal whispers, and embrace their silent grandeur. Beneath the protection of their ample shade, between the columns…
 
"That virtue only makes our bliss below, and all our knowledge is, ourselves to know". In other words, if this couplet were to be condensed into an utterance more succinct, "Know Thyself". So saith the inscription on the wall of the famed temple at Delphi, so saith the less-than pagan Pope. Enjoy this final installment of his "Essay On Man".…
 
"Man, like the generous vine, supported lives; the strength he gains is from the embrace he gives". Join me for this--Pope's penultimate installment to his famed, "Essay On Man". The themes upon which the divine Pope, that mitred-master of the couplet, proceeds to dilate are many: God and Nature; instinct and reason; man and beast; government and s…
 
"Know, then, thyself, presume not God to scan; the proper study of mankind is man". So read, in part, the inscription above the Apollonian Temple at Delphi; so says the near-divine Pope, by whom his touch of English eloquence was added to the lapidary Greek. We humans exist in a middle state, somewhere between the lofty angels and lowly beasts. We'…
 
"Laugh where we must, be candid where we can; but vindicate the ways of God to man". This is a vindication, mind you, not a justification--as John Milton might have it. Whether or not you wish to contemplate the subtle differences between the two, or simply bask in the light of their poetic brilliance, I leave to you. Either way, enjoy this reading…
 
"The Devil hath not in all his quiver's choice, an arrow for the heart like a sweet voice". Indeed, so dulcet a dart must be loosed by a gentler hand. It must be guided by an aim more eloquent than his. It must, if it's to strike that vital part, and penetrate that pulsing organ entombed in the breast, climb onto the honey-laden bow from which, wit…
 
"Ye stars! which are the poetry of heaven! If in your bright leaves we would read the fate of men and empires--'tis to be forgiven, that in our aspirations to be great, our destinies overleap their mortal state". A pilgrimage for the ages: yours, to the terra incognita of sleep, and Childe Harold's, to the land for which, at one time or another, a …
 
Loading …

Quick Reference Guide

Copyright 2021 | Sitemap | Privacy Policy | Terms of Service
Google login Twitter login Classic login