all things and all persons stands behind us, and casts his dread omniscience through us over things. Thus revering the soul, and learning, as the ancient said, that "its beauty is immense man will come to see that the world is the perennial miracle which the soul worketh, and be less astonished at particular wonders; he will learn that there. Yet there is a depth in those brief moments which constrains us to ascribe more reality to them than to all other experiences. But the soul that ascends to worship the great God is plain and true; has no rose-color, no fine friends, no chivalry, no adventures; does not want admiration; dwells in the hour that now is, in the earnest experience of the common day,-by reason. Among the multitude of scholars and authors, we feel no hallowing presence; we are sensible of a knack and skill rather than of inspiration; they have a light, and know not whence it comes, and call it their own; their talent is some exaggerated faculty. All goes to show that the soul in man is not an organ, but animates and exercises all the organs; is not a function, like the power of memory, of calculation, of comparison, but uses these as hands and feet; is not a faculty, but. And so in groups where debate is earnest, and especially on high questions, the company become aware that the thought rises to an equal level in all bosoms, that all have a spiritual property in what was said, as well as the sayer. In all conversation between two persons, tacit reference is made, as to a third party, to a common nature. We not only affirm that we have few great men, but, absolutely speaking, that we have none; that we have no history, no record of any character or mode of living, that entirely contents. Such a thought is the love of the universal and eternal beauty. With respect to the four themes listed above, the essay presents the following views: (1) the human soul is immortal, and immensely vast and beautiful; (2) our conscious ego is slight and limited in comparison to the soul, despite the fact that we habitually mistake.
When we die, we return to dust. Even their prayers are hurtful to him, until he have made his own. It is an ebb of the individual rivulet before the flowing surges of the sea of life. Henry More, space is ample, east and west, But two cannot go abreast, Cannot travel in it two: how to pronounce the plural of thesis Yonder masterful cuckoo, crowds every egg out of the nest, Quick or dead, except its own; A spell is laid on sod and stone, Night and Day. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1995.
Emerson s language is quite mystical he re, because he s talking about mystical things. In their writings they give us clear descriptions of these inner e xperiences. Here is a passage from Emerson s famous essay The Over-Soul.
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