Schopenhauer, bir yanda insan zihninin u?a?? olacak denli bedene ya da fiziksel organizmaya ba??ml? oldu?una y?nelik savunusuyla, ?bür yanda isten? ile tutkular?n ?o?unlukla us yoluyla bast?r?l?p ?arp?t?ld???na y?nelik saptamas?yla, Freudcu ruh??zümleme kuram?n? da ?ncelemeyi ba?arm??t?r. Schopenhauer’a g?re “yeter neden ilkesi”nin bütün tasar?mlar?n (ya da g?rüngülerin) kendisine uymak zorunda oldu?u d?rt temel bi?imi vard?r. Schopenhauer, yeter neden ilkesinin k?künü olu?turan bu d?rt temel bi?imi s?ras?yla,? (?) “olu?”; (??) “varolma”; (???) “bilme”; (?v) “eyleme” olarak belirlemi?tir. ??Schopenhauer’in Jeana üniversitesinde doktora tezi olarak sundu?u “Yeter Neden ilkesinin D?rt Sa?akl? K?kü, 1813″ ba?l?kl? ?al??mas?, pek ?ok bak?mdan ya?am?n?n ilerleyen y?llar?nda verece?i felsefe yap?tlar?n?n temelini ‘olu?turmas?yla olduk?a ?nemlidir. Tezin temel sav?, Kant’?n “g?rüngüler (pheinomenon) dünyas?”na kar??l?k gelen “tasar?mlar dünyas?”n?n bütünüyle “yeter neden ilkesi”nce y?netildi?idir. Bu ilkeye g?re, olanakl? bütün nesneler, hem ?teki nesnelerce belirlendikleri hem de kendileri d???ndaki bütün ?teki nesneleri belirledikleri zorunlu bir ili?ki i?inde bulunmaktad?rlar. Dolay?s?yla, her bilin? nesnesi ancak ?teki nesnelerle ili?kisi do?rultusunda a??klanabilirdir. Bu noktada Schopenhauer, ancak bu durumu ba?tan benimsemek ko?uluyla, Kant’?n tan?mlad??? anlamda dünyaya ili?kin birtak?m zorunlu sentetik a priori do?rular?n bilinmesinin olanakl? oldu?u saptamas?nda bulunur. ? ?Schopenhauer, tasar?mlar aras?ndaki bu zorunlu ili?ki türlerinden, §? “olu?”ta nedensellik ilkesi diye de bilinen neden sonu? ili?kisini; §? “varolma”da uzam-zaman ili?kisini; §? “bilme”de ?ncül-sonu? aras?ndaki kavramsal ili?kiyi; §? “eyleme” de eylem-itki ili?kisini temellendirmektedir. ? ????NDEK?LER: ? SHOPENAUER’?N HAYATI ve ?ALI?MALARIA?KIN METAF?Z??? ?ZER?NE?L?M VE ?L?M KORKUSU ?ZER?NE…SHOPENHAUER’IN AHLAK FELSEFES?AHLAKSHOPENHAUER VE KADINLARSHOPENHAUER VE M?Z?K…?STEN? VE TASARIM OLARAK D?NYAYA?AM B?LGEL??? ?ZER?NE AFOR?ZMALAR?L?M ?ZER?NE..SANAT ?ZER?NE..SHOPENHAUER VE D?N ?ZER?NE…SHOPENHAUER’IN C?NNET & C?NAYET FELSEFES?Nietzsche ve Schopenhauer :Hayat?n De?eriSchopenhauer ve H?ristiyanl?k?Ele?tirisi?lk Günah DoktriniHristiyan Ahlak?H?ristiyani ??retilerin Yaratt??? ?eli?kiler:H?ristiyan ??retilerin ?Ahlak ?zerindeki Olumsuz EtkileriH?ristiyanlar Mevcut Olan Ac?lar? ?o?u Zaman Daha da Art?rmaktalar:H?ristiyanl?k ?lüm Korkusunun ?stesinden GelmiyorTarihi Olaylar ile ?rülmü? Yak?n Ba?lant? ve Tarihsel DogmaH?ristiyanl?kta Hayvanlara Kar?? Tutunulan Tav?rSCHOPENHAURDEN ?ZL? S?ZLER…?

Samson and Delilah was written in the year 1917 by David Herbert Lawrence. This book is one of the most popular novels of David Herbert Lawrence, and has been translated into several other languages around the world.This book is published by Booklassic which brings young readers closer to classic literature globally.

This is a Pussy called Miss Moppet, she thinks she has heard a mouse!??This is the Mouse peeping out behind the cupboard, and making fun of Miss Moppet. He is not afraid of a kitten.??This is Miss Moppet jumping just too late; she misses the Mouse and hits her own head.??She thinks it is a very hard cupboard!??The Mouse watches Miss Moppet from the top of the cupboard.??Miss Moppet ties up her head in a duster, and sits before the fire.??The Mouse thinks she is looking very ill. ?He comes sliding down the bell-pull.??Miss Moppet looks worse and worse. The Mouse comes a little nearer.??Miss Moppet holds her poor head in her paws, and looks at him through a hole in the duster. The Mouse comes very close.??And then all of a sudden—Miss Moppet jumps upon the Mouse!!

If any book could be called legendary, surely it is this one. Its author, Italian diplomat and philosopher Niccolò Machiavelli (1469-1527) considered it his greatest work. Indeed, his thoughts on politics, as laid out so famously in this brief but profound work, have become so synonymous with him that his name has become an adjective: Machiavellian. How is political power achieved? How is it maintained? Though Machiavelli states explicitly that he is not discussing "Republics" here, only "Princedoms", this coldly rational guidebook to taking control and holding onto it contains such universal insights into human nature and the structure of human systems that his "advice" serves equally well in almost any power structure. With applications in such diverse realms as business, the military, even role-playing games, Machiavelli's rules for ruling continue to be required reading for students of politics, philosophy, and ethics.

ONCE upon a time there was a very beautiful doll's-house; it was red brick with white windows, and it had real muslin curtains and a front door and a chimney.??IT belonged to two Dolls called Lucinda and Jane; least it belonged to Lucinda, but she never ordered meals.?Jane was the Cook; but she never did any cooking, because the dinner had been bought ready-made, in a box full of shavings. ??THERE were two red lobsters and a ham, a fish, a pudding, and some pears and oranges.?They would not come off the plates, but they were extremely beautiful.?ONE morning Lucinda and Jane had gone out for a drive in the doll's perambulator. There was no one in the nursery, and it was very quiet. Presently there was a little scuffling, scratching noise in a corner near the fire-place, where there was a hole under the skirting-board.?Tom Thumb put out his head for a moment, and then popped it in again.?Tom Thumb was a mouse. ??A MINUTE afterwards, Hunca Munca, his wife, put her head out, too; and when she saw that there was no one in the nursery, she ventured out on the oilcloth under the coal-box.

The clever fox made friends with the crane. The clever fox once had a notion to treat the crane to dinner and went to invite him to her house."Come godfather! Come dear! How I'll entertain you!"The crain went to the dinner party.The clever fox had cooked farina cereal and spread it over a plate.She served it and urged. "Eat, my friend-godfather, I cooked it myself. "

Far out in the ocean the water is as blue as the petals of the loveliest cornflower, and as clear as the purest glass. But it is very deep too. It goes down deeper than any anchor rope will go, and many, many steeples would have to be stacked one on top of another to reach from the bottom to the surface of the sea. It is down there that the sea folk live. Now don't suppose that there are only bare white sands at the bottom of the sea. No indeed! The most marvelous trees and flowers grow down there, with such pliant stalks and leaves that the least stir in the water makes them move about as though they were alive. All sorts of fish, large and small, dart among the branches, just as birds flit through the trees up here. From the deepest spot in the ocean rises the palace of the sea king. Its walls are made of coral and its high pointed windows of the clearest amber, but the roof is made of mussel shells that open and shut with the tide. This is a wonderful sight to see, for every shell holds glistening pearls, any one of which would be the pride of a queen's crown.

ONCE time ago, there lived an old man and old woman. The old man said, "Old woman, make me a little bun." "What can I make it from? I have no flour." "Eh, eh, old woman! Scrape the cupboard, sweep the flour bin, and you will find enough flour. "The old woman picked up a duster, scraped the cupboard, swept the flour bin and gathered about two handfuls of flour. She mixed the dough with sour cream, fried it in butter, and put the bun on the window sill to cool. The bun lay and lay there. Suddenly it rolled off the window sill to the bench, from the bench to the floor, from the floor to the door. Then it rolled over the threshold to the entrance hall, from the entrance hall to the porch, from the porch to the courtyard, from the courtyard trough the gate and on and on.

This don't pretend to be "Literature."??This is just a tale for red-blooded folks who want a story and not just a lot of "psychological" stuff or "analysis."??Boy, you'll love it! Read it here, see it in the movies, play it on the phonograph, run it through the sewing-machine.??* * *??It was night in the mountains of Kentucky. Wild hills rose on all sides. Swift mountain streams flowed rapidly up and down the mountains.?Jemima Tantrum was down at the stream, brewing whiskey at the family still.??She was a typical mountain girl.

Este Leopardi un poet pesimist, aa cum l-a clasat tradiia Nu. Din perspectiva zilei de azi, el apare mai degrab ca un poet tragic, ca un exponent al categoriilor existeniale fundamentale. Nu moartea ca atare l sperie pe Leopardi, ci murirea, adic manifestarea ei procesual. Tot astfel viaa leopardian este vieuire. Desfurarea acestora e inversat: trirea vieii (vieuirea) e retrospectiv, iar trirea morii (murirea) e perspectiv. Inversiunea ontologic este temeiul mitopo(i)eticii leopardiene. Cartea ne propune un Leopardi modern i postmodern, un spirit intercultural i multicultural n siajul integrrii europene. Nu lipsete, bineneles, odiseea receptrii lui n spaiul cultural romnesc, ca pattern al lirismului arhetipal, alturi de Eminescu.” (Mihai Cimpoi)Un studiu incitant despre unul dintre cei mai mari poei ai lumii.

"Gadsby" is a 1939 novel by Ernest Vincent Wright. The plot revolves around the dying fictional city of Branton Hills, which is revitalized thanks to the efforts of protagonist John Gadsby and a youth group he organizes.The novel is written as a lipogram and does not include words that contain the letter "e". Though self-published and little-noticed in its time, the book is a favourite of fans of constrained writing and is a sought-after rarity among some book collectors. Later editions of the book have sometimes carried the alternative subtitle "50,000 Word Novel Without the Letter 'E'". In 1968, the novel entered the public domain in the United States due to failure to renew copyright in the 28th year after publication.

Stories:?HOW TOOTS WENT TO BED.?TOOTS AT THE KINDERGARTEN.?THE HAPPY HOUR.?ELFIE.?PAUL BROWN.?PAUL'S VIEWS AT EIGHT YEARS OF AGE.?MAX THE MEDDLER.?OUR MAY.?A BUBBLE PARTY.?SEWING A SEAM.?A FOUR-FOOTED FRIEND.?NAUGHTY SANDY?FLOSSIE'S HANDS.?JAMIE DOON.?FIVES.?OLIVER TWIST AT HOME.?MRS. WHITE'S FAMILY.?BUD AND BUNNIE.?DAISY DEAN.?THE COMMISSARY.?HARRY'S GUEST.?A TIRED VISITOR.?MR. SMITH'S FAMILY.?WHAT SHALL WE DO WITH BABY??DADDY TOUGH.?BUTTON BLUE.?THE STORY OF THE CUCKOO.?MAJOR AND BENJAMINA.?THE COMMODORE'S GUESTS.?HARVEST FESTIVAL.??TOOTS is our baby. He is a queer one too; up early, and always in dread of bed-time. One morning, not long ago, we heard him singing, and on looking for him, found the little rogue in the very middle of our best bed in the guest chamber, where he was playing hand-organ with a long hairpin put through the pretty pillow covers which had just come home from the laundry. There he sat singing a droll medley of "Uncle Ned," "Blessed Desus," and "Down in the Coal Mine." He had been watching two soldiers with a hand-organ, and Toots likes to do everything he sees done. While we were putting the guest-room in order, Toots marched out as a blind man, with his eyes shut and a cane in his hand. This brought him to grief, for he was picked up at the foot of the stairs with two large bumps on his pretty white brow. ??Toots was quiet then for a little while, a very little while, for as soon as we decided that his bones were all sound and a doctor need not be called, he "played sick," and asked for "shicken brof" and toast.

SOON, the master stopped discussing a moment, and rang in the footman, and said, "Bury it in the far corner of the garden," and then went on with the discussion, and I trotted after the footman, very happy and grateful, for I knew the puppy was out of its pain now, because it was asleep. We went far down the garden to the farthest end, where the children and the nurse and the puppy and I used to play in the summer in the shade of a great elm, and there the footman dug a hole, and I saw he was going to plant the puppy, and I was glad, because it would grow and come up a fine handsome dog, like Robin Adair, and be a beautiful surprise for the family when they came home; so I tried to help him dig, but my lame leg was no good, being stiff, you know, and you have to have two, or it is no use. When the footman had finished and covered little Robin up, he patted my head, and there were tears in his eyes, and he said: "Poor little DOGGIE, you saved HIS child!" ABOUT AUTHOR: Mark Twain (1835-1910), was an American humorist, satirist, writer, and lecturer. Twain is most noted for his novels Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, which has since been called the Great American Novel, and The Adventures of Tom Sawyer. He is also known for his quotations. During his lifetime, Clemens became a friend to presidents, artists, leading industrialists, and European royalty. Clemens enjoyed immense public popularity, and his keen wit and incisive satire earned him praise from both critics and peers. American author William Faulkner called Twain "the father of American literature.”

There were formerly a King and a Queen, who were so sorry that they had no children, so sorry that it cannot be expressed. They went to all the waters in the world; vows, pilgrimages, all ways were tried and all to no purpose. At last, however, the Queen proved with child, and was brought to bed of a daughter. There was a very fine christening; and the Princess had for her godmothers all the Fairies they could find in the whole kingdom (they found seven), that every one of them might give her a gift, as was the custom of Fairies in those days, and that by this means the Princess might have all the perfections imaginable. After the ceremonies of the christening were over, all the company returned to the King's palace, where was prepared a great feast for the Fairies. There was placed before every one of them a magnificent cover with a case of massive gold, wherein were a spoon, knife and fork, all of pure gold set with diamonds and rubies. But as they were all sitting down at table, they saw come into the hall a very old Fairy whom they had not invited, because it was above fifty years since she had been out of a certain tower, and she was believed to be either dead or inchanted. The King ordered her a cover, but could not furnish her with a case of gold as the others, because they had seven only made for the seven Fairies.

Once, there was a Prince who wanted to marry a Princess. Only a real one would do. So he traveled through all the world to find her, and everywhere things went wrong. There were Princesses aplenty, but how was he to know whether they were real Princesses? There was something not quite right about them all. So he came home again and was unhappy, because he did so want to have a real Princess.

In days gone by there was a King who had three sons. When his sons came of age the King called them to him and said, "My dear lads, I want you to get married so that I may see your little ones, my grand-children, before I die." And his sons replied, "Very well, Father, give us your blessing. Who do you want us to marry?" "Each of you must take an arrow, go out into the green meadow and shoot it. Where the arrows fall, there shall your destiny be."So the sons bowed to their father, and each of them took an arrow and went out into the green meadow, where they drew their bows and let fly their arrows. The arrow of the eldest son fell in the courtyard of a nobleman, and the nobleman's daughter picked it up. The arrow of the middle son fell in the yard of a merchant, and the merchant's daughter picked it up. But the arrow of the youngest son, Prince Ivan, flew up and away he knew not where. He walked on and on in search of it, and at last he came to a marsh, where what should he see but a frog sitting on a leaf with the arrow in its mouth. Prince Ivan said to it, "Frog, frog, give me back my arrow." And the frog replied, "Marry me!" "How can I marry a frog?" "Marry me, for it is your destiny."

Trees filtering light onto dapple grass. Trees like tall, languid ladies with feather fans coquetting airily with the ugly roof of the monastery. Trees like butlers, bending courteously over placid walks and paths. Trees, trees over the hills on either side and scattering out in clumps and lines and woods all through eastern Maryland, delicate lace on the hems of many yellow fields, dark opaque backgrounds for flowered bushes or wild climbing garden. Some of the trees were very gay and young, but the monastery trees were older than the monastery which, by true monastic standards, wasn't very old at all. And, as a matter of fact, it wasn't technically called a monastery, but only a seminary; nevertheless it shall be a monastery here despite its Victorian architecture or its Edward VII additions, or even its Woodrow Wilsonian, patented, last-a-century roofing. Out behind was the farm where half a dozen lay brothers were sweating lustily as they moved with deadly efficiency around the vegetable-gardens. To the left, behind a row of elms, was an informal baseball diamond where three novices were being batted out by a fourth, amid great chasings and puffings and blowings. And in front as a great mellow bell boomed the half-hour a swarm of black, human leaves were blown over the checker-board of paths under the courteous trees.Some of these black leaves were very old with cheeks furrowed like the first ripples of a splashed pool. Then there was a scattering of middle-aged leaves whose forms when viewed in profile in their revealing gowns were beginning to be faintly unsymmetrical. These carried thick volumes of Thomas Aquinas and Henry James and Cardinal Mercier and Immanuel Kant and many bulging note-books filled with lecture data.

In 1915 Horace Tarbox was thirteen years old. In that year he took the examinations for entrance to Prince-ton University and received the Grade A—excellent—in C?sar, Cicero, Vergil, Xenophon, Homer, Algebra, Plane Geometry, Solid Geometry, and Chemistry.??Two years later while George M. Cohan was composing "Over There," Horace was leading the sophomore class by several lengths and digging out theses on "The Syllogism as an Obsolete Scholastic Form," and during the battle of Ch?teau-Thierry he was sitting at his desk deciding whether or not to wait until his seventeenth birthday before beginning his series of essays on "The Pragmatic Bias of the New Realists."??After a while some newsboy told him that the war was over, and he was glad, because it meant that Peat Brothers, publishers, would get out their new edition of "Spinoza's Improvement of the Understanding." Wars were all very well in their way, made young men self-reliant or something but Horace felt that he could never forgive the President for allowing a brass band to play under his window the night of the false armistice, causing him to leave three important sentences out of his thesis on "German Idealism."

A room in the down-stairs of a summer cottage. High around the wall runs an art frieze of a fisherman with a pile of nets at his feet and a ship on a crimson ocean, a fisherman with a pile of nets at his feet and a ship on a crimson ocean, a fisherman with a pile of nets at his feet and so on. In one place on the frieze there is an overlapping—here we have half a fisher-man with half a pile of nets at his foot, crowded damply against half a ship on half a crimson ocean. The frieze is not in the plot, but frankly it fascinates me. I could continue indefinitely, but I am distracted by one of the two objects in the room—a blue porcelain bath-tub. It has character, this bath-tub. It is not one of the new racing bodies, but is small with a high tonneau and looks as if it were going to jump; dis-couraged, however, by the shortness of its legs, it has submitted to its environment and to its coat of sky-blue paint. But it grumpily refuses to allow any patron completely to stretch his legs—which brings us neatly to the second object in the room: SHE is a girl—clearly an appendage to the bath-tub, on-ly her head and throat—beautiful girls have throats instead of necks—and a suggestion of shoulder ap-pearing above the side. For the first ten minutes of the play the audience is engrossed in wondering if she really is playing the game fairly and hasn't any clothes on or whether it is being cheated and she is dressed. The girl's name is JULIE MARVIS. From the proud way she sits up in the bath-tub we deduce that she is not very tall and that she carries herself well. When she smiles, her upper tip rolls a little and reminds you of an Easter Bunny, She is within whispering distance of twenty years old.

Jim Powell was a Jelly-bean. Much as I desire to make him an appealing character, I feel that it would be unscrupulous to deceive you on that point. He was a bred-in-the-bone, dyed-in-the-wool, ninety-nine three-quarters per cent Jelly-bean and he grew lazily all during Jelly-bean season, which is every season, down in the land of the Jelly-beans well below the Mason-Dixon line.Now if you call a Memphis man a Jelly-bean he will quite possibly pull a long sinewy rope from his hip pocket and hang you to a convenient telegraph-pole. If you Call a New Orleans man a Jelly-bean he will probably grin and ask you who is taking your girl to the Mardi Gras ball. The particular Jelly-bean patch which produced the protagonist of this history lies somewhere between the two—a little city of forty thousand that has dozed sleepily for forty thousand years in southern Georgia occasionally stirring in its slumbers and muttering something about a war that took place sometime, somewhere, and that everyone else has forgotten long ago.

MYTH: ITS BIRTH AND GROWTH.“Unchecked by external truth, the mind of man has a fatal facility for ensnaring, entrapping, and entangling itself. But, happily, happily for the human race, some fragment of physical speculation has been built into every false system. Here is the weak point. Its inevitable destruction leaves a breach in the whole fabric, and through that breach the armies of truth march in.”Sir H. S. Maine. MYTH: ITS BIRTH AND GROWTH.CHAPTER IITS PRIMITIVE MEANING.It is barely thirty years ago since the world was startled by the publication of Buckle’s History of Civilisation, with its theory that human actions are the effect of causes as fixed and regular as those which operate in the universe; climate, soil, food, and scenery being the chief conditions determining progress. That book was a tour de force, not a lasting contribution to the question of man’s mental development. The publication of Darwin’s epoch-making Origin of Species[1] showed wherein it fell short; how the importance of the above-named causes was exaggerated and the existence of equally potent causes overlooked. Buckle probably had not read Herbert Spencer’s Social Statics, and he knew nothing of the profound revolution in silent preparation in the quiet of Darwin’s home; otherwise, his book must have been rewritten. This would have averted the oblivion from which not even its charm of style can rescue it. Its brilliant but defective theories are obscured in the fuller light of that doctrine of descent with modifications by which we learn that external circumstances do not alone account for the widely divergent types of men, so that a superior race, in supplanting an inferior one, will change the face and destiny of a country, “making the solitary place to be glad, and the desert to rejoice and blossom as the rose.” Darwin has given us the clue to those subtle and still obscure causes which bring about, stage by stage, the unseen adaptations to requirements varying a type and securing its survival, and which have resulted in the evolution of the manifold species of living things. The notion of a constant relation between man and his surroundings is therefore untenable. The object of this book is to present in compendious form the evidence which myths and dreams supply as to primitive man’s interpretation of his own nature and of the external world, and more especially to indicate how such evidence carries within itself the history of the origin and growth of beliefs in the supernatural. The examples are selected chiefly from barbaric races, as furnishing the nearest correspondences to the working of the mind in what may be called its “eocene” stage, but examples are also cited from civilised races, as witnessing to that continuity of ideas which is obscured by familiarity or ignored by prejudice.Had more illustrations been drawn from sources alike prolific, the evidence would have been swollen to undue dimensions without increasing its significance; as it is, repetition has been found needful here and there, under the difficulty of entirely detaching the arguments advanced in the two parts of this work.