skopia
Gibbon follows Rome from its imperial peak to the fall of Constantinople thirteen centuries later, in the finest prose English history possesses. His contempt for Christianity still makes readers laugh.
Western thought divides at this book. Kant argues that space, time, and cause belong to the mind doing the looking rather than to the world, and marks the boundary reason cannot cross.
Wealth is not gold in a vault but what a country produces, and specialization multiplies it. Smith begins with ten men making pins and every economic argument since descends from him.
Bao-yu, born with a jade in his mouth, would rather write poems with his cousins than study for the exams, while his great eighteenth-century Chinese family slides toward ruin. Their world is ending.
Swift's ship's surgeon washes up among people six inches tall, then among giants, then among rational horses who find humans repulsive. Each voyage is funnier than the last and angrier about us.
Voltaire sends an innocent young man taught that this is the best of all possible worlds through war, earthquake, and the Inquisition. The comedy is savage and the optimism does not survive.
Short poems in simple meter about lambs, chimney sweeps, and a tiger burning in the forests of the night. Blake sets an innocent version beside a bitter one and lets you decide.
Beauty sits in no object, yet you expect everyone to agree with you. Kant grounds that strange demand, and shows why a raging ocean enlarges the person watching it rather than crushing him.
Montesquieu sorts governments into republics that run on virtue, monarchies on honor, and despotisms on fear, then argues that liberty survives only where power is divided. The American framers read him closely.
Look inside for a self and you find only a rush of sensations. Look for cause and effect and you find only habit. Reason itself, Hume concludes, is the slave of the passions.
Man is born free, and everywhere he is in chains. Nobody holds natural authority over anyone, Rousseau argues, so law binds you only if you helped make it. Geneva burned the book.
Found as a baby in a squire's bed, Tom grows up generous and reckless, loses his home, and follows Sophia Western to London. Coleridge ranked the plot beside that of Oedipus.
Werther writes to a friend about Lotte, who is engaged to a decent man, and about feelings he cannot govern. Young men across Europe dressed like him and read themselves into his condition.
Boswell met Samuel Johnson, who had written the English dictionary, in 1763 and wrote down his talk for twenty years. Johnson steps off the page as somebody you have actually met.
Hamilton, Madison, and Jay wrote eighty-five essays to sell New York on the Constitution, arguing that a large republic tames factions and that ambition must counteract ambition. Courts still quote them.
Samuel Johnson pronounced this book already dead. Two hundred and sixty years on, Tristram is still failing to get himself born, derailed by his father's theories and his uncle's toy fortress.
Raising an imaginary boy from infancy to marriage, Rousseau insists children learn from things rather than books and should not be reasoned with too early. Our whole picture of childhood descends from it.
Three friends argue over whether the order of the world proves a designer. Philo grants the comparison, then dismantles it, asking why a competent god would build this much suffering into the machine.
The first man to fence a field and say this is mine founded civil society, Rousseau writes, and ruined it. His case against progress split the Enlightenment and still unsettles readers.
Paine tells the colonists that an island cannot rule a continent and that hereditary kingship is an absurdity. Read aloud in taverns, it turned grievance into independence within months.