May 10, 2024 • 31 mins
https://www.solgoodmedia.com Listen to hundreds of audiobooks, thousands of short stories, and ambient sounds all ad free! "Logic Library" is a haven for those fascinated by the structure of reasoning and the art of argument. With all episodes now available, you can binge on discussions that dissect various logical theories and their practical applications in everyday life. This collection is a valuable resource for enhancing logical skills.
Mark as Played
Transcript
Episode Transcript
Available transcripts are automatically generated. Complete accuracy is not guaranteed.
(00:00):
Chapter five, Solitude. This isa delicious evening when the whole body is
one sense and imbibes delight through everypore. I go and come with a
strange liberty in nature, a partof herself, as I walk along the
(00:25):
stony shore of the pond in myshirt sleeves. Though it is cool as
well as cloudy and windy, andI see nothing special to attract me.
All the elements are unusually congenial tome. The bull frogs trump to usher
in the night, and the noteof the whipper will is borne on the
(00:48):
rippling wind from over the water.Sympathy with the fluttering alder and poplar leaves
almost takes away my breath. Yet, like the lake, my serenity is
rippled, but not ruffled. Thesesmall waves raised by the evening wind are
(01:14):
as remote from storm as the smoothreflecting surface. Though it is now dark,
the wind still blows and roars inthe wood, The waves still dash,
and some creatures lull the rest withtheir notes. The repose is never
(01:41):
complete. The wildest animals do notrepose, but seek their prey. Now
the foxs and skunk and rabbit nowroam the fields and woods without fear,
They are nature's watchmen, links whichconnect the days of animated life. When
(02:07):
I return to my house, Ifind that visitors have been there and left
their cards, either a bunch offlowers or a wreath of evergreen, or
a name in pencil on a yellowwalnut leaf or a chip. They who
come rarely to the woods, takesome little piece of the forests into their
(02:28):
hands to play with. By theway which they leave, either intentionally or
accidentally. One has peeled a willowwand woven it into a ring and dropped
it on my table. I couldalways tell of visitors had called in my
absence, either by the bended twigsor grass, or the print of their
(02:52):
shoes, and generally of what sexor age or quality they were by some
slight trace left as a flower droppedor a bunch of grass plucked and then
thrown away, even as far offas the railroad half a mile distant,
or by the lingering odor of acigar or pipe. Nay, I was
(03:16):
frequently notified of the passage of atraveler along the highway sixty rods off by
the scent of his pipe. Thereis commonly sufficient space about us. Our
horizon is never quite at our elbows. The thick wood is not just at
(03:38):
our door, nor the pond,but somewhat is always clearing, familiar and
worn by us, appropriated and fencedin some way, and reclaimed from nature.
For what reason have I this vastrange and circuit, some square miles
(04:00):
of unfrequented forest for my privacy,abandoned to me by men. My nearest
neighbor is a mile distant, andno house is visible from any place but
the hill tops within half a mileof my own. I have my horizon
bounded by woods, all to myself, a distant view of the railroad where
(04:28):
it touches the pond on the onehand, and of the fence which skirts
the woodland road on the other.But for the most part it is as
solitary where I live as on theprairies. It is as much Asia or
Africa as New England. I have, as it were, my own sun
(04:55):
and moon and stars, and alittle world all to myself. At night.
There was never a traveler past myhouse or knocked at my door,
more than if I were the firstor last man, unless it were in
the spring, when at long intervalssome came from the village to fish for
(05:19):
pouts. They plainly fished much morein the walled and pond of their own
natures, and baited their hooks withdarkness. But they soon retreated, usually
with light baskets, and left theworld to darkness and to me, and
(05:43):
the black kernel of the night wasnever profaned by any human neighborhood. I
believe that men are generally still alittle afraid of the dark. Though the
witches are all hung and Christianity andcandles have been introduced. Yet I experienced
(06:03):
sometimes that the most sweet and tender, the most innocent, and encouraging society,
may be found in any natural object. Even for the poor misanthrope and
most melancholy man. There can beno very black melancholy to him who lives
(06:26):
in the midst of nature and hashis senses still. There was never yet
such a storm, but it wasAolian music to a healthy and innocent ear.
Nothing can rightly compel a simple andbrave man to a vulgar sadness.
(06:48):
While I enjoy the friendship of theseasons, I trust that nothing can make
life a burden to me. Thegentle rain which waters my beans and keeps
me in the house to day isnot drear and melancholy, but good for
(07:10):
me too. Though it prevents mehoeing them, it is of far more
worth than my hoeing. If itshould continue so long as to cause the
seeds to rot in the ground anddestroy the potatoes in the low lands,
it would still be good for thegrass on the uplands. And being good
(07:32):
for the grass, it would begood for me. Sometimes when I compare
myself with other men, it seemsas if I were more favored by the
gods than they, beyond any desertsthat I am conscious of, as if
(07:53):
I had a warrant and surety attheir hands, which my fellows have not,
and were especially guy and guarded.I do not flatter myself, but
if it be possible, they flatterme. I have never felt lonesome or
(08:13):
in the least oppressed by a senseof solitude, but once, and that
was a few weeks after I cameto the woods, when for an hour
I doubted if the near neighborhood ofman was not essential to a serene and
healthy life. To be alone wassomething unpleasant. But I was at the
(08:43):
same time conscious of a slight insanityin my mood, and seemed to foresee
my recovery in the midst of agentle reign. While these thoughts prevailed,
I was suddenly sensible of such sweetand beneficent society in nature, in the
(09:11):
very pattering of the drops, andin every sound and sight around my house,
an infinite and unaccountable friendliness, allat once, like an atmosphere sustaining
me as made the fancied advantages ofhuman neighborhood insufficient, and I have never
(09:37):
thought of them since every little pineneedle expanded and swelled with sympathy and befriended
me. I was so distinctly madeaware of the presence of something kindred to
me, even in scenes which weare accustomed to call wild and re And
(10:01):
also that the nearest of blood tome and humanist was not a person nor
a villager, that I thought noplace could ever be strange to me Again,
morning untimely consumes the sad few aretheir days in the land of the
(10:22):
living, beautiful daughter of Toscar.Some of my pleasantest hours were during the
long rain storms in the spring orfall, which confined me to the house
for the afternoon as well as theforenoon, soothed by their ceaseless roar and
(10:43):
pelting, when an early twilight usheredin a long evening in which many thoughts
had time to take root and unfoldthemselves in those driving northeast rains which tried
the village houses. So when themaid stood ready with mop and pale in
front entries to keep the deluge out, I sat behind my door in my
(11:09):
little house, which was all entry, and thoroughly enjoyed its protection. In
one heavy thunder shower, the lightningstruck a large pitch pine across the pond,
making a very conspicuous and perfectly regularspiral groove from top to bottom,
(11:33):
an inch or more deep and fouror five inches wide, as you would
groove a walking stick. I passedit again the other day, and was
struck with awe on looking up andbeholding that mark, now more distinct than
ever, where a terrific and resistlessbolt came down out of the harmless sky
(11:58):
eight years ago. Men frequently sayto me, I should think you would
feel lonesome down there, and wantto be nearer to folks rainy and sunny
days and nights especially. I amtempted to reply to such. This whole
(12:20):
earth which we inhabit, is buta point in space? How far apart
think you dwell the two most distantinhabitants of yonder star, the breadth of
whose disk cannot be appreciated by ourinstruments. Why should I feel lonely?
(12:48):
Is not our planet? In themilky way? This which you put seems
to me not to be the mostimportant question? What sort of space is
that which separates a man from hisfellows and makes him solitary? I have
(13:11):
found that no exertion of the legscan bring two minds much nearer to one
another. What do we want mostto dwell near to? Not to many
men, surely the depot, thepost office, the bar room, the
meeting house, the school house,the grocery, beacon hill, or the
(13:35):
five points where men most congregate,But to the perennial source of our life.
Whence, in all our experience wehave found that to issue. As
the willow stands near the water andsends out its roots in that direction,
(13:58):
this will very with different natures.But this is the place where a wise
man will dig his cellar. Ione evening overtook one of my townsmen who
has accumulated what is called a handsomeproperty, though I never got a fair
(14:20):
view of it. On the Waldenroad, driving a pair of cattle to
market. Who inquired of me howI could bring my mind to give up
so many of the comforts of life. I answered that I was very sure,
I liked it passably well. Iwas not joking, and so I
(14:43):
went home to my bed and lefthim to pick his way through the darkness
and the mud to Brighton or brightTown, which place he would reach some
time in the morning. Respect ofawakening or coming to life to a dead
(15:03):
man makes indifferent all times and places. The place where that may occur is
always the same and indescribably pleasant toall our senses. For the most part,
we allow only outlying and transient circumstancesto make our occasions. They are,
(15:31):
in fact the cause of our distraction. Nearest to all things is that
power which fashions their being next tous, the grandest laws are continually being
(15:54):
executed. Next to us. Isnot the workmen whom we have hired,
with whom we love so well totalk, but the workmen whose work we
are. How vast and profound isthe influence of the subtle powers of heaven
(16:23):
and of earth. We seek toperceive them, and we do not see
them. We seek to hear them, and we do not hear them.
Identified with the substance of things,they cannot be separated from them. They
(16:45):
cause that in all the universe menpurify and sanctify their hearts, and clothe
themselves in their holiday garments, tooffer sacrifices and oblations to their ancestors.
It is an ocean of subtle intelligences. They are everywhere above us, on
(17:11):
our left, on our right.They environ us on all sides. We
are the subjects of an experiment whichis not a little interesting to me.
Can we not do without the societyof our gossips a little while under these
(17:34):
circumstances, have our own thoughts tocheer us. Confucius says, truly,
virtue does not remain as an abandonedorphan. It must, of necessity have
neighbors with thinking. We may bebeside ourselves in a sane sense. By
(18:02):
a conscious effort of the mind,we can stand aloof from actions and their
consequences, and all things good andbad go by us like a torrent.
We are not wholly involved in nature. I may be either the driftwood in
(18:25):
the stream or Indra in the skylooking down on it. I may be
affected by a theatrical exhibition. Onthe other hand, I may not be
affected by an actual event, whichappears to concern me much more. I
(18:45):
only know myself as a human entitythe scene, so to speak, of
thoughts and affections, and am sensibleof a certain doubleness by which I can
stand as remote from myself as fromanother. However intense my experience, I
(19:11):
am conscious of the presence and criticismof a part of me, which,
as it were, is not apart of me, but spectator, sharing
no experience, but taking note ofit. And that is no more I
(19:33):
than it is you. When theplay, it may be the tragedy of
life is over, the spectator goeshis way. It was a kind of
fiction, a work of the imagination, only so far as he was concerned.
(19:57):
This double may easily make us poorneighbors and friends. Sometimes I find
it wholesome to be alone. Thegreater part of the time. To be
in company, even with the best, is soon wearisome and dissipating. I
(20:22):
love to be alone. I neverfound the companion that was so companionable as
solitude. We are for the mostpart, more lonely when we go abroad
among men than when we stay inour own chambers. A man thinking or
(20:47):
working is always alone. Let himbe where he will. Solitude is not
measured by the miles of space thatintervene between a man and his fellows.
The really diligent student in one ofthe crowded hives of Cambridge College is as
(21:10):
solitary as a dervish in the desert. The farmer can work alone in the
field of the woods all day,hoeing or chopping and not feel lonesome because
he is employed. But when hecomes home at night, he cannot sit
down in a room alone at themercy of his thoughts, but must be
(21:36):
where he can see the folks andrecreate, and, as he thinks,
remunerate himself for his days solitude.And hence he wonders how the student can
sit alone in the house all nightand most of the day without on Yui
(22:00):
and the blues. But he doesnot realize that the student, though in
the house, is still at workin his field and chopping in his woods
as the farmer in his, andin turn seeks the same recreation and society
(22:25):
that the latter does, though itmay be a more condensed form of it.
Society is commonly too cheap. Wemeet at very short intervals, not
having had time to acquire any newvalue for each other. We meet at
meals three times a day, andgive each other a new taste of that
(22:48):
old musty cheese that we are.We have had to agree on a certain
set of rules called etiquette and politenessto make this frequent meeting tolerable, and
that we need not come to openwar. We meet at the post office,
(23:10):
and at the sociable, and aboutthe fireside every night. We live
thick and are in each other's way, and stumble over one another. And
I think that we thus lose somerespect for one another. Certainly, less
frequency would suffice for all important andhearty communications. Consider the girls in a
(23:37):
factory, never alone, hardly intheir dreams. It would be better if
they were but one inhabitant to asquare mile, as where I live.
The value of a man is notin his skin, that we should touch
him. I have heard of aman lost in the woods and dying of
(24:02):
famine and exhaustion at the foot ofa tree, whose loneliness was relieved by
the grotesque visions with which, owingto bodily weakness, his diseased imagination,
surrounded him, and which he believedto be real. So, also,
owing to bodily and mental health andstrength, we may be continually cheered by
(24:26):
a like but more normal and naturalsociety, and come to know that we
are never alone. I have agreat deal of company in my house,
especially in the morning when nobody calls. Let me suggest a few comparisons that
(24:49):
some one may convey an idea ofmy situation. I am no more lonely
than the loon in the pond thatlaughs so loud, or than walden pond
itself. What company has that lonelylake? I pray? And yet it
(25:11):
has not the blue devils, butthe blue angels in it, in the
azure tint of its waters. Thesun is alone, except in thick weather,
when there sometimes appear to be two, but one is a mock son.
God is alone, But the devilhe is far from being alone.
(25:37):
He sees a great deal of company. He is legion. I am no
more lonely than a single mulldon ordandelion in a pasture, or a bean
leaf, or a sorrel, ora horse fly or a bumble bee.
(25:59):
I am no more lonely than themill brook, or a weathercock, or
the north star or the south wind, or an April shower or a January
thaw, or the first spider ina new house. I have occasional visits
(26:19):
in the long winter evenings, whenthe snow falls fast and the wind howls
in the wood, from an oldsettler and original proprietor who is reported to
have dug walden pond and stoned itand fringed it with pine woods, who
tells me stories of old time andnew eternity. And between us we manage
(26:45):
to pass a cheerful evening with socialmirth and pleasant views of things, even
without apples or cider. A mostwise and humorous friend whom I love much,
who keeps himself more secret than everdid Goff or Wailly, And though
he is thought to be dead,none can show where he is buried.
(27:11):
An elderly dame, too, dwellsin my neighborhood, invisible to most persons,
in whose odorous herb garden I loveto stroll, sometimes, gathering simples
and listening to her fables, forshe has a genius of unequaled fertility,
and her memory runs back farther thanmythology, and she can tell me the
(27:34):
original of every fable, and onwhat fact every one is founded. For
the incidents occurred when she was young, a ruddy and lusty old dame,
who delights in all weathers and seasons, and is likely to outlive all her
(27:56):
children. Yet the indescribable innocence andbeneficence of nature of sun and wind and
rain of summer and winter, suchhealth, such cheer they afford forever,
and such sympathy have they ever withour race? That all nature would be
(28:18):
affected, and the sun's brightness fade, and the winds would sigh humanely,
and the clouds rain tears, andthe woods shed their leaves and put on
mourning in midsummer. If any manshould ever, for a just cause grieve,
(28:41):
Shall I not have intelligence? Withthe earth? Am I not partly
leaves and vegetable mold myself? Whatis the pill which keeps us well serene?
Contented? Not my or thy greatgrandfathers, but our great grandmother natures
(29:07):
universal vegetable botanic medicines by which shehas kept herself young, always outlived so
many old pars in her day andfed her health with their decaying fatness for
(29:27):
my panacea. Instead of one ofthose quack vials of a mixture dipped from
Asheron and the dead Sea, whichcome out of those long, shallow,
black schooner looking wagons which we sometimessee made to carry bottles, Let me
have a draft of undiluted mourning air. Mourning air. If men will not
(29:59):
drink of this at the fountain headof the day, why then we must
even bottle up some and sell itin the shops for the benefit of those
who have lost their subscription ticket tomorning time in this world. But remember
(30:21):
it will not keep quite till noonday, even in the coolest cellar. But
drive out the stopples long ere that, and follow westward the steps of Aurora.
I am no worshiper of Hygia,who was the daughter of that old
(30:42):
herb doctor Esculapius, and who isrepresented on monuments holding a serpent in one
hand and in the other a cupout of which the serpent sometimes drinks,
but rather of heb cupbare to Jupiter, who was the daughter of Juno and
(31:03):
wild Lettuce, and who had thepower of restoring gods and men to the
vigor of youth. She was probablythe only thoroughly sound conditioned, healthy and
robust young lady that ever walked tothe globe, and wherever she came,
(31:23):
it was spring. End of Chapterfive,
Chapter five, Solitude. This isa delicious evening when the whole body is
one sense and imbibes delight through everypore. I go and come with a
strange liberty in nature, a partof herself, as I walk along the
(00:25):
stony shore of the pond in myshirt sleeves. Though it is cool as
well as cloudy and windy, andI see nothing special to attract me.
All the elements are unusually congenial tome. The bull frogs trump to usher
in the night, and the noteof the whipper will is borne on the
(00:48):
rippling wind from over the water.Sympathy with the fluttering alder and poplar leaves
almost takes away my breath. Yet, like the lake, my serenity is
rippled, but not ruffled. Thesesmall waves raised by the evening wind are
(01:14):
as remote from storm as the smoothreflecting surface. Though it is now dark,
the wind still blows and roars inthe wood, The waves still dash,
and some creatures lull the rest withtheir notes. The repose is never
(01:41):
complete. The wildest animals do notrepose, but seek their prey. Now
the foxs and skunk and rabbit nowroam the fields and woods without fear,
They are nature's watchmen, links whichconnect the days of animated life. When
(02:07):
I return to my house, Ifind that visitors have been there and left
their cards, either a bunch offlowers or a wreath of evergreen, or
a name in pencil on a yellowwalnut leaf or a chip. They who
come rarely to the woods, takesome little piece of the forests into their
(02:28):
hands to play with. By theway which they leave, either intentionally or
accidentally. One has peeled a willowwand woven it into a ring and dropped
it on my table. I couldalways tell of visitors had called in my
absence, either by the bended twigsor grass, or the print of their
(02:52):
shoes, and generally of what sexor age or quality they were by some
slight trace left as a flower droppedor a bunch of grass plucked and then
thrown away, even as far offas the railroad half a mile distant,
or by the lingering odor of acigar or pipe. Nay, I was
(03:16):
frequently notified of the passage of atraveler along the highway sixty rods off by
the scent of his pipe. Thereis commonly sufficient space about us. Our
horizon is never quite at our elbows. The thick wood is not just at
(03:38):
our door, nor the pond,but somewhat is always clearing, familiar and
worn by us, appropriated and fencedin some way, and reclaimed from nature.
For what reason have I this vastrange and circuit, some square miles
(04:00):
of unfrequented forest for my privacy,abandoned to me by men. My nearest
neighbor is a mile distant, andno house is visible from any place but
the hill tops within half a mileof my own. I have my horizon
bounded by woods, all to myself, a distant view of the railroad where
(04:28):
it touches the pond on the onehand, and of the fence which skirts
the woodland road on the other.But for the most part it is as
solitary where I live as on theprairies. It is as much Asia or
Africa as New England. I have, as it were, my own sun
(04:55):
and moon and stars, and alittle world all to myself. At night.
There was never a traveler past myhouse or knocked at my door,
more than if I were the firstor last man, unless it were in
the spring, when at long intervalssome came from the village to fish for
(05:19):
pouts. They plainly fished much morein the walled and pond of their own
natures, and baited their hooks withdarkness. But they soon retreated, usually
with light baskets, and left theworld to darkness and to me, and
(05:43):
the black kernel of the night wasnever profaned by any human neighborhood. I
believe that men are generally still alittle afraid of the dark. Though the
witches are all hung and Christianity andcandles have been introduced. Yet I experienced
(06:03):
sometimes that the most sweet and tender, the most innocent, and encouraging society,
may be found in any natural object. Even for the poor misanthrope and
most melancholy man. There can beno very black melancholy to him who lives
(06:26):
in the midst of nature and hashis senses still. There was never yet
such a storm, but it wasAolian music to a healthy and innocent ear.
Nothing can rightly compel a simple andbrave man to a vulgar sadness.
(06:48):
While I enjoy the friendship of theseasons, I trust that nothing can make
life a burden to me. Thegentle rain which waters my beans and keeps
me in the house to day isnot drear and melancholy, but good for
(07:10):
me too. Though it prevents mehoeing them, it is of far more
worth than my hoeing. If itshould continue so long as to cause the
seeds to rot in the ground anddestroy the potatoes in the low lands,
it would still be good for thegrass on the uplands. And being good
(07:32):
for the grass, it would begood for me. Sometimes when I compare
myself with other men, it seemsas if I were more favored by the
gods than they, beyond any desertsthat I am conscious of, as if
(07:53):
I had a warrant and surety attheir hands, which my fellows have not,
and were especially guy and guarded.I do not flatter myself, but
if it be possible, they flatterme. I have never felt lonesome or
(08:13):
in the least oppressed by a senseof solitude, but once, and that
was a few weeks after I cameto the woods, when for an hour
I doubted if the near neighborhood ofman was not essential to a serene and
healthy life. To be alone wassomething unpleasant. But I was at the
(08:43):
same time conscious of a slight insanityin my mood, and seemed to foresee
my recovery in the midst of agentle reign. While these thoughts prevailed,
I was suddenly sensible of such sweetand beneficent society in nature, in the
(09:11):
very pattering of the drops, andin every sound and sight around my house,
an infinite and unaccountable friendliness, allat once, like an atmosphere sustaining
me as made the fancied advantages ofhuman neighborhood insufficient, and I have never
(09:37):
thought of them since every little pineneedle expanded and swelled with sympathy and befriended
me. I was so distinctly madeaware of the presence of something kindred to
me, even in scenes which weare accustomed to call wild and re And
(10:01):
also that the nearest of blood tome and humanist was not a person nor
a villager, that I thought noplace could ever be strange to me Again,
morning untimely consumes the sad few aretheir days in the land of the
(10:22):
living, beautiful daughter of Toscar.Some of my pleasantest hours were during the
long rain storms in the spring orfall, which confined me to the house
for the afternoon as well as theforenoon, soothed by their ceaseless roar and
(10:43):
pelting, when an early twilight usheredin a long evening in which many thoughts
had time to take root and unfoldthemselves in those driving northeast rains which tried
the village houses. So when themaid stood ready with mop and pale in
front entries to keep the deluge out, I sat behind my door in my
(11:09):
little house, which was all entry, and thoroughly enjoyed its protection. In
one heavy thunder shower, the lightningstruck a large pitch pine across the pond,
making a very conspicuous and perfectly regularspiral groove from top to bottom,
(11:33):
an inch or more deep and fouror five inches wide, as you would
groove a walking stick. I passedit again the other day, and was
struck with awe on looking up andbeholding that mark, now more distinct than
ever, where a terrific and resistlessbolt came down out of the harmless sky
(11:58):
eight years ago. Men frequently sayto me, I should think you would
feel lonesome down there, and wantto be nearer to folks rainy and sunny
days and nights especially. I amtempted to reply to such. This whole
(12:20):
earth which we inhabit, is buta point in space? How far apart
think you dwell the two most distantinhabitants of yonder star, the breadth of
whose disk cannot be appreciated by ourinstruments. Why should I feel lonely?
(12:48):
Is not our planet? In themilky way? This which you put seems
to me not to be the mostimportant question? What sort of space is
that which separates a man from hisfellows and makes him solitary? I have
(13:11):
found that no exertion of the legscan bring two minds much nearer to one
another. What do we want mostto dwell near to? Not to many
men, surely the depot, thepost office, the bar room, the
meeting house, the school house,the grocery, beacon hill, or the
(13:35):
five points where men most congregate,But to the perennial source of our life.
Whence, in all our experience wehave found that to issue. As
the willow stands near the water andsends out its roots in that direction,
(13:58):
this will very with different natures.But this is the place where a wise
man will dig his cellar. Ione evening overtook one of my townsmen who
has accumulated what is called a handsomeproperty, though I never got a fair
(14:20):
view of it. On the Waldenroad, driving a pair of cattle to
market. Who inquired of me howI could bring my mind to give up
so many of the comforts of life. I answered that I was very sure,
I liked it passably well. Iwas not joking, and so I
(14:43):
went home to my bed and lefthim to pick his way through the darkness
and the mud to Brighton or brightTown, which place he would reach some
time in the morning. Respect ofawakening or coming to life to a dead
(15:03):
man makes indifferent all times and places. The place where that may occur is
always the same and indescribably pleasant toall our senses. For the most part,
we allow only outlying and transient circumstancesto make our occasions. They are,
(15:31):
in fact the cause of our distraction. Nearest to all things is that
power which fashions their being next tous, the grandest laws are continually being
(15:54):
executed. Next to us. Isnot the workmen whom we have hired,
with whom we love so well totalk, but the workmen whose work we
are. How vast and profound isthe influence of the subtle powers of heaven
(16:23):
and of earth. We seek toperceive them, and we do not see
them. We seek to hear them, and we do not hear them.
Identified with the substance of things,they cannot be separated from them. They
(16:45):
cause that in all the universe menpurify and sanctify their hearts, and clothe
themselves in their holiday garments, tooffer sacrifices and oblations to their ancestors.
It is an ocean of subtle intelligences. They are everywhere above us, on
(17:11):
our left, on our right.They environ us on all sides. We
are the subjects of an experiment whichis not a little interesting to me.
Can we not do without the societyof our gossips a little while under these
(17:34):
circumstances, have our own thoughts tocheer us. Confucius says, truly,
virtue does not remain as an abandonedorphan. It must, of necessity have
neighbors with thinking. We may bebeside ourselves in a sane sense. By
(18:02):
a conscious effort of the mind,we can stand aloof from actions and their
consequences, and all things good andbad go by us like a torrent.
We are not wholly involved in nature. I may be either the driftwood in
(18:25):
the stream or Indra in the skylooking down on it. I may be
affected by a theatrical exhibition. Onthe other hand, I may not be
affected by an actual event, whichappears to concern me much more. I
(18:45):
only know myself as a human entitythe scene, so to speak, of
thoughts and affections, and am sensibleof a certain doubleness by which I can
stand as remote from myself as fromanother. However intense my experience, I
(19:11):
am conscious of the presence and criticismof a part of me, which,
as it were, is not apart of me, but spectator, sharing
no experience, but taking note ofit. And that is no more I
(19:33):
than it is you. When theplay, it may be the tragedy of
life is over, the spectator goeshis way. It was a kind of
fiction, a work of the imagination, only so far as he was concerned.
(19:57):
This double may easily make us poorneighbors and friends. Sometimes I find
it wholesome to be alone. Thegreater part of the time. To be
in company, even with the best, is soon wearisome and dissipating. I
(20:22):
love to be alone. I neverfound the companion that was so companionable as
solitude. We are for the mostpart, more lonely when we go abroad
among men than when we stay inour own chambers. A man thinking or
(20:47):
working is always alone. Let himbe where he will. Solitude is not
measured by the miles of space thatintervene between a man and his fellows.
The really diligent student in one ofthe crowded hives of Cambridge College is as
(21:10):
solitary as a dervish in the desert. The farmer can work alone in the
field of the woods all day,hoeing or chopping and not feel lonesome because
he is employed. But when hecomes home at night, he cannot sit
down in a room alone at themercy of his thoughts, but must be
(21:36):
where he can see the folks andrecreate, and, as he thinks,
remunerate himself for his days solitude.And hence he wonders how the student can
sit alone in the house all nightand most of the day without on Yui
(22:00):
and the blues. But he doesnot realize that the student, though in
the house, is still at workin his field and chopping in his woods
as the farmer in his, andin turn seeks the same recreation and society
(22:25):
that the latter does, though itmay be a more condensed form of it.
Society is commonly too cheap. Wemeet at very short intervals, not
having had time to acquire any newvalue for each other. We meet at
meals three times a day, andgive each other a new taste of that
(22:48):
old musty cheese that we are.We have had to agree on a certain
set of rules called etiquette and politenessto make this frequent meeting tolerable, and
that we need not come to openwar. We meet at the post office,
(23:10):
and at the sociable, and aboutthe fireside every night. We live
thick and are in each other's way, and stumble over one another. And
I think that we thus lose somerespect for one another. Certainly, less
frequency would suffice for all important andhearty communications. Consider the girls in a
(23:37):
factory, never alone, hardly intheir dreams. It would be better if
they were but one inhabitant to asquare mile, as where I live.
The value of a man is notin his skin, that we should touch
him. I have heard of aman lost in the woods and dying of
(24:02):
famine and exhaustion at the foot ofa tree, whose loneliness was relieved by
the grotesque visions with which, owingto bodily weakness, his diseased imagination,
surrounded him, and which he believedto be real. So, also,
owing to bodily and mental health andstrength, we may be continually cheered by
(24:26):
a like but more normal and naturalsociety, and come to know that we
are never alone. I have agreat deal of company in my house,
especially in the morning when nobody calls. Let me suggest a few comparisons that
(24:49):
some one may convey an idea ofmy situation. I am no more lonely
than the loon in the pond thatlaughs so loud, or than walden pond
itself. What company has that lonelylake? I pray? And yet it
(25:11):
has not the blue devils, butthe blue angels in it, in the
azure tint of its waters. Thesun is alone, except in thick weather,
when there sometimes appear to be two, but one is a mock son.
God is alone, But the devilhe is far from being alone.
(25:37):
He sees a great deal of company. He is legion. I am no
more lonely than a single mulldon ordandelion in a pasture, or a bean
leaf, or a sorrel, ora horse fly or a bumble bee.
(25:59):
I am no more lonely than themill brook, or a weathercock, or
the north star or the south wind, or an April shower or a January
thaw, or the first spider ina new house. I have occasional visits
(26:19):
in the long winter evenings, whenthe snow falls fast and the wind howls
in the wood, from an oldsettler and original proprietor who is reported to
have dug walden pond and stoned itand fringed it with pine woods, who
tells me stories of old time andnew eternity. And between us we manage
(26:45):
to pass a cheerful evening with socialmirth and pleasant views of things, even
without apples or cider. A mostwise and humorous friend whom I love much,
who keeps himself more secret than everdid Goff or Wailly, And though
he is thought to be dead,none can show where he is buried.
(27:11):
An elderly dame, too, dwellsin my neighborhood, invisible to most persons,
in whose odorous herb garden I loveto stroll, sometimes, gathering simples
and listening to her fables, forshe has a genius of unequaled fertility,
and her memory runs back farther thanmythology, and she can tell me the
(27:34):
original of every fable, and onwhat fact every one is founded. For
the incidents occurred when she was young, a ruddy and lusty old dame,
who delights in all weathers and seasons, and is likely to outlive all her
(27:56):
children. Yet the indescribable innocence andbeneficence of nature of sun and wind and
rain of summer and winter, suchhealth, such cheer they afford forever,
and such sympathy have they ever withour race? That all nature would be
(28:18):
affected, and the sun's brightness fade, and the winds would sigh humanely,
and the clouds rain tears, andthe woods shed their leaves and put on
mourning in midsummer. If any manshould ever, for a just cause grieve,
(28:41):
Shall I not have intelligence? Withthe earth? Am I not partly
leaves and vegetable mold myself? Whatis the pill which keeps us well serene?
Contented? Not my or thy greatgrandfathers, but our great grandmother natures
(29:07):
universal vegetable botanic medicines by which shehas kept herself young, always outlived so
many old pars in her day andfed her health with their decaying fatness for
(29:27):
my panacea. Instead of one ofthose quack vials of a mixture dipped from
Asheron and the dead Sea, whichcome out of those long, shallow,
black schooner looking wagons which we sometimessee made to carry bottles, Let me
have a draft of undiluted mourning air. Mourning air. If men will not
(29:59):
drink of this at the fountain headof the day, why then we must
even bottle up some and sell itin the shops for the benefit of those
who have lost their subscription ticket tomorning time in this world. But remember
(30:21):
it will not keep quite till noonday, even in the coolest cellar. But
drive out the stopples long ere that, and follow westward the steps of Aurora.
I am no worshiper of Hygia,who was the daughter of that old
(30:42):
herb doctor Esculapius, and who isrepresented on monuments holding a serpent in one
hand and in the other a cupout of which the serpent sometimes drinks,
but rather of heb cupbare to Jupiter, who was the daughter of Juno and
(31:03):
wild Lettuce, and who had thepower of restoring gods and men to the
vigor of youth. She was probablythe only thoroughly sound conditioned, healthy and
robust young lady that ever walked tothe globe, and wherever she came,
(31:23):
it was spring. End of Chapterfive,
Popular Podcasts
Dateline NBC
Current and classic episodes, featuring compelling true-crime mysteries, powerful documentaries and in-depth investigations. Follow now to get the latest episodes of Dateline NBC completely free, or subscribe to Dateline Premium for ad-free listening and exclusive bonus content: DatelinePremium.com
Stuff You Should Know
If you've ever wanted to know about champagne, satanism, the Stonewall Uprising, chaos theory, LSD, El Nino, true crime and Rosa Parks, then look no further. Josh and Chuck have you covered.
Law & Order: Criminal Justice System - Season 1 & Season 2
Season Two Out Now! Law & Order: Criminal Justice System tells the real stories behind the landmark cases that have shaped how the most dangerous and influential criminals in America are prosecuted. In its second season, the series tackles the threat of terrorism in the United States. From the rise of extremist political groups in the 60s to domestic lone wolves in the modern day, we explore how organizations like the FBI and Joint Terrorism Take Force have evolved to fight back against a multitude of terrorist threats.