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the life which he has imagined； he will meet with a success
unexpected in common hours。 He will put some things behind； will
pass an invisible boundary； new； universal； and more liberal laws
will begin to establish themselves around and within him； or the old
laws be expanded； and interpreted in his favor in a more liberal
sense； and he will live with the license of a higher order of
beings。 In proportion as he simplifies his life； the laws of the
universe will appear less complex； and solitude will not be
solitude； nor poverty poverty； nor weakness weakness。 If you have
built castles in the air； your work need not be lost； that is where
they should be。 Now put the foundations under them。
It is a ridiculous demand which England and America make； that
you shall speak so that they can understand you。 Neither men nor
toadstools grow so。 As if that were important； and there were not
enough to understand you without them。 As if Nature could support
but one order of understandings； could not sustain birds as well as
quadrupeds； flying as well as creeping things； and hush and whoa；
which Bright can understand； were the best English。 As if there
were safety in stupidity alone。 I fear chiefly lest my expression
may not be extravagant enough； may not wander far enough beyond the
narrow limits of my daily experience； so as to be adequate to the
truth of which I have been convinced。 Extra vagance！ it depends on
how you are yarded。 The migrating buffalo； which seeks new pastures
in another latitude； is not extravagant like the cow which kicks
over the pail； leaps the cowyard fence； and runs after her calf； in
milking time。 I desire to speak somewhere without bounds； like a
man in a waking moment； to men in their waking moments； for I am
convinced that I cannot exaggerate enough even to lay the foundation
of a true expression。 Who that has heard a strain of music feared
then lest he should speak extravagantly any more forever？ In view
of the future or possible； we should live quite laxly and undefined
in front； our outlines dim and misty on that side； as our shadows
reveal an insensible perspiration toward the sun。 The volatile
truth of our words should continually betray the inadequacy of the
residual statement。 Their truth is instantly translated； its
literal monument alone remains。 The words which express our faith
and piety are not definite； yet they are significant and fragrant
like frankincense to superior natures。
Why level downward to our dullest perception always； and praise
that as common sense？ The commonest sense is the sense of men
asleep； which they express by snoring。 Sometimes we are inclined to
class those who are once…and…a…half…witted with the half…witted；
because we appreciate only a third part of their wit。 Some would
find fault with the morning red； if they ever got up early enough。
〃They pretend；〃 as I hear； 〃that the verses of Kabir have four
different senses； illusion； spirit； intellect； and the exoteric
doctrine of the Vedas〃； but in this part of the world it is
considered a ground for complaint if a man's writings admit of more
than one interpretation。 While England endeavors to cure the
potato…rot； will not any endeavor to cure the brain…rot； which
prevails so much more widely and fatally？
I do not suppose that I have attained to obscurity； but I should
be proud if no more fatal fault were found with my pages on this
score than was found with the Walden ice。 Southern customers
objected to its blue color； which is the evidence of its purity； as
if it were muddy； and preferred the Cambridge ice； which is white；
but tastes of weeds。 The purity men love is like the mists which
envelop the earth； and not like the azure ether beyond。
Some are dinning in our ears that we Americans； and moderns
generally； are intellectual dwarfs compared with the ancients； or
even the Elizabethan men。 But what is that to the purpose？ A
living dog is better than a dead lion。 Shall a man go and hang
himself because he belongs to the race of pygmies； and not be the
biggest pygmy that he can？ Let every one mind his own business； and
endeavor to be what he was made。
Why should we be in such desperate haste to succeed and in such
desperate enterprises？ If a man does not keep pace with his
companions； perhaps it is because he hears a different drummer。 Let
him step to the music which he hears； however measured or far away。
It is not important that he should mature as soon as an apple tree
or an oak。 Shall he turn his spring into summer？ If the condition
of things which we were made for is not yet； what were any reality
which we can substitute？ We will not be shipwrecked on a vain
reality。 Shall we with pains erect a heaven of blue glass over
ourselves； though when it is done we shall be sure to gaze still at
the true ethereal heaven far above； as if the former were not？
There was an artist in the city of Kouroo who was disposed to
strive after perfection。 One day it came into his mind to make a
staff。 Having considered that in an imperfect work time is an
ingredient； but into a perfect work time does not enter； he said to
himself； It shall be perfect in all respects； though I should do
nothing else in my life。 He proceeded instantly to the forest for
wood； being resolved that it should not be made of unsuitable
material； and as he searched for and rejected stick after stick； his
friends gradually deserted him； for they grew old in their works and
died； but he grew not older by a moment。 His singleness of purpose
and resolution； and his elevated piety； endowed him； without his
knowledge； with perennial youth。 As he made no compromise with
Time； Time kept out of his way； and only sighed at a distance
because he could not overcome him。 Before he had found a stock in
all respects suitable the city of Kouroo was a hoary ruin； and he
sat on one of its mounds to peel the stick。 Before he had given it
the proper shape the dynasty of the Candahars was at an end； and
with the point of the stick he wrote the name of the last of that
race in the sand； and then resumed his work。 By the time he had
smoothed and polished the staff Kalpa was no longer the pole…star；
and ere he had put on the ferule and the head adorned with precious
stones； Brahma had awoke and slumbered many times。 But why do I
stay to mention these things？ When the finishing stroke was put to
his work； it suddenly expanded before the eyes of the astonished
artist into the fairest of all the creations of Brahma。 He had made
a new system in making a staff； a world with full and fair
proportions； in which； though the old cities and dynasties had
passed away； fairer and more glorious ones had taken their places。
And now he saw by the heap of shavings still fresh at his feet；
that； for him and his work； the former lapse of time had been an
illusion； and that no more time had elapsed than is required for a
single scin