Let the words be gazetted and ridiculous henceforward. The sinew and heart of man seem to be drawn out, and we are become timorous, desponding whimperers.
He may as well concern himself with his shadow on the wall. But that which a man is does always by necessity acquire, and what the man acquires is living property, which does not wait the beck of rulers, or mobs, or revolutions, or fire, or storm, or bankruptcies, but perpetually renews itself wherever the man breathes.
But is that really the case? It recedes as fast on one side as it gains on the other. The persons who make up a nation to-day, next year die, and their experience with them. We solicitously and apologetically caress and celebrate him, because he held on his way and scorned our disapprobation.
In like manner the reformers summon conventions, and vote and resolve in multitude. But the rage of travelling is a symptom of a deeper unsoundness affecting the whole intellectual action.
Does this sound harsh to-day? In the early nineteenth century, many worshipers no longer wanted to hear that they were sinners in the hands of an angry God.
He followed the Greeks in arguing that a poem, like the soul itself, resembles a living organism, a pattern of reason logos ordered by rhyme and rhythm.
All men have my blood, and I have all men's.