Behind us, as we go, all things assume pleasing forms,… Love Love By Ralph Waldo Emerson Every promise of the soul has innumerable fulfilments; each ofnt. Nature, uncontainable, flowing, forelooking, in the first sentiment of kindness anticipates already a benevolence which shall lose all particular regards in its general light. Emerson urges his readers… Friendship Friendship By Ralph Waldo Emerson We have a great selfishness that chills like east winds the world, the whole human family is bathed with an element of love like a fine ether. How many persons we meet in houses, whom we scarcely speak to, whom… Prudence Prudence By Ralph Waldo Emerson What right have I to write ont of the negative sort?
Nature, uncontainable, flowing, forelooking, in the first sentiment of kindness anticipates already a benevolence which shall lose all particular regards in its general light. The introduction to this felicity is in a private and tender relation of one to one, which is the enchantment of human life; which, like a certain divine rage and enthusiasm, seizes on man at one period, and works a revolution in his mind and body; unites him to his race, pledges him to the domestic and civic relations, carries him with new sympathy into nature, enhances the power of the senses, opens the imagination, adds to his character heroic and sacred attributes, establishes marriage, and gives permanence to human society.
The natural association of the sentiment of love with the heyday of the blood seems to require, that in order to portray it in vivid tints, which every youth and maid should confess to be true to their throbbing experience, one must not be too old.
The delicious fancies of youth reject the least savour of a mature philosophy, as chilling with age and pedantry their purple bloom. And, therefore, I know I incur the imputation of unnecessary Emerson essays first series 1841 and stoicism from those who compose the Court and Parliament of Love.
But from these formidable censors I shall appeal to my seniors. For it is to be considered that this passion of which we speak, though it begin with the young, yet forsakes not the old, or rather suffers no one who is truly its servant to grow old, but makes the aged participators of it, not less than the tender maiden, though in a different and nobler sort.
For it is a fire that, kindling its first embers in the narrow nook of a private bosom, caught from a wandering spark Emerson essays first series 1841 of another private heart, glows and enlarges until it warms and beams upon multitudes of men and women, upon the universal heart of all, and so lights up the whole world and all nature with its generous flames.
It matters not, therefore, whether we attempt to describe the passion at twenty, at thirty, or at eighty years. He who paints it at the first period will lose some of its later, he who paints it at the last, some of its earlier traits. And the first condition is, that we must leave a too close and lingering adherence to facts, and study the sentiment as it appeared in hope and not in history.
For each man sees his own life defaced and disfigured, as the life of man is not, to his imagination. Each man sees over his own experience a certain stain of error, whilst that of other men looks fair and ideal. Let any man go back to those delicious relations which make the beauty of his life, which have given him sincerest instruction and nourishment, he will shrink and moan.
I know not why, but infinite compunctions embitter in mature life the remembrances of budding joy, and cover every beloved name. Every thing is beautiful seen from the point of the intellect, or as truth. But all is sour, if seen as experience. Details are melancholy; the plan is seemly and noble.
In the actual world--the painful kingdom of time and place--dwell care, and canker, and fear. With thought, with the ideal, is immortal hilarity, the rose of joy.
Round it all the Muses sing. But grief cleaves to names, and persons, and the partial interests of to-day and yesterday. The strong bent of nature is seen in the proportion which this topic of personal relations usurps in the conversation of society. What do we wish to know of any worthy person so much, as how he has sped in the history of this sentiment?
What books in the circulating libraries circulate? How we glow over these novels of passion, when the story is told with any spark of truth and nature! And what fastens attention, in the intercourse of life, like any passage betraying affection between two parties? Perhaps we never saw them before, and never shall meet them again.
But we see them exchange a glance, or betray a deep emotion, and we are no longer strangers. We understand them, and take the warmest interest in the development of the romance.
All mankind love a lover. It is the dawn of civility and grace in the coarse and rustic. The rude village boy teases the girls about the school-house door;--but to-day he comes running into the entry, and meets one fair child disposing her satchel; he holds her books to help her, and instantly it seems to him as if she removed herself from him infinitely, and was a sacred precinct.
Or who can avert his eyes from the engaging, half-artful, half-artless ways of school-girls who go into the country shops to buy a skein of silk or a sheet of paper, and talk half an hour about nothing with the broad-faced, good-natured shop-boy. In the village they are on a perfect equality, which love delights in, and without any coquetry the happy, affectionate nature of woman flows out in this pretty gossip.
The girls may have little beauty, yet plainly do they establish between them and the good boy the most agreeable, confiding relations, what with their fun and their earnest, about Edgar, and Jonas, and Almira, and who was invited to the party, and who danced at the dancing-school, and when the singing-school would begin, and other nothings concerning which the parties cooed.
By and by that boy wants a wife, and very truly and heartily will he know where to find a sincere and sweet mate, without any risk such as Milton deplores as incident to scholars and great men.
I have been told, that in some public discourses of mine my reverence for the intellect has made me unjustly cold to the personal relations. But now I almost shrink at the remembrance of such disparaging words. For, though the celestial rapture falling out of heaven seizes only upon those of tender age, and although a beauty overpowering all analysis or comparison, and putting us quite beside ourselves, we can seldom see after thirty years, yet the remembrance of these visions outlasts all other remembrances, and is a wreath of flowers on the oldest brows.
In looking backward, they may find that several things which were not the charm have more reality to this groping memory than the charm itself which embalmed them.
The passion rebuilds the world for the youth. It makes all things alive and significant. Every bird on the boughs of the tree sings now to his heart and soul.
The notes are almost articulate.In Emerson published Essays, his second book, which included the famous essay "Self-Reliance". His aunt called it a "strange medley of atheism and false independence", but it gained favorable reviews in London and Paris.
Essays, First Series  The Over-Soul "But souls that of his own good life partake, He loves as his own self; dear as his eye Is the teaching of Christ less effective now than it was when first his mouth was opened?
The emphasis of facts and persons in my thought has nothing to do with time. Emerson on the Soul. Whitford. Essays: First Series, is a series of essays written by Ralph Waldo Emerson, published in , concerning r-bridal.com book contains: "History" "Self-Reliance" "Compensation" "Spiritual Laws" "Love" "Friendship" "I hate the prostitution of the name of .
ESSAY IX The Over-Soul There is a difference between one and another hour of life, in their authority and subsequent effect. Our faith comes in moments; our vice is habitual. Essays - First Series has ratings and 22 reviews.
Nick said: Unfortunately, I barely pushed myself through this. I picked it up because it was in the /5. There are snatches of his "Self Reliance" essay that I will probably put to memory. And, wow, the way Emerson could turn a phrase, whewwwww, this man could write!
But, I soon lost steam going through his writings (hence, the first series and not the second). They all began to sound much the same and had a rambling quality to them/5.