Aristotle's Posterior Analytics
Publisher: The Peripatetic Press
Publication Date: 1981-07
Number of pages: 328
This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can usually download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated. 1909 edition. Excerpt: ...every blunted sensibility into life. Palaces and churches--poems in stone--canvases that radiate sombre forests, oases of olive and palm, Beethoven, Milton, and even the great Michael himself, may have roused in you no quiver of delight nor thrill of feeling. But here--here by this wondrous city of the sea--here, where the transcendent goddess of the night spreads her wings, radiant in the light of an August moon, her brow studded with stars, even were your soul of clay, here would it vibrate to the dignity, the beauty, and the majesty of her matchless presence. As you lie, adrift in your gondola, hung in mid air--so like a mirror is the sea, so vast the vault above you--so dreamlike the charm! How exquisite the languor! Now a burst of music from the far off plaza, dying into echoes about the walls of San Giorgio; now the slow tolling of some bells from a distant tower; now the ripple of a laugh, or a snatch of song, or the low cooing of a lover's voice, as a ghostly skiff with drawn curtains and muffled light glides past; and now the low splash of the rowers as some phantom ship looms above you with bowlights aglow, crosses the highway of silver, and melts into shadow. Suddenly from out the stillness there bursts across the bosom of the sleeping wave the dull boom of the evening gun, followed by the long blast of the bugle from the big warship near the arsenal; and then, as you hold your breath, the clear tones of the great bell of the Campanile strike the hour. Now is the spell complete! The Professor, in the seat beside me, turns his head, and, with a cautioning hand to Espero to stay his oar, listens till each echo has had its say; first San Giorgio's wall, then the Public Garden, and last the low murmur that pulsates back from the...