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- 11500
- extracted_at
- 2026-01-30T20:48:52.924Z
- extracted_by
- structure-extraction-lambda
- start_line
- 11443
- text
- it; how to construct any temple? Youth must wholly quit, then, the
quarry, for awhile; and not only go forth, and get tools to use in the
quarry, but must go and thoroughly study architecture. Now the
quarry-discoverer is long before the stone-cutter; and the stone-cutter
is long before the architect; and the architect is long before the
temple; for the temple is the crown of the world.
Yes; Pierre was not only very unarchitectural at that time, but Pierre
was very young, indeed, at that time. And it is often to be observed,
that as in digging for precious metals in the mines, much earthy rubbish
has first to be troublesomely handled and thrown out; so, in digging in
one's soul for the fine gold of genius, much dullness and common-place
is first brought to light. Happy would it be, if the man possessed in
himself some receptacle for his own rubbish of this sort: but he is like
the occupant of a dwelling, whose refuse can not be clapped into his own
cellar, but must be deposited in the street before his own door, for the
public functionaries to take care of. No common-place is ever
effectually got rid of, except by essentially emptying one's self of it
into a book; for once trapped in a book, then the book can be put into
the fire, and all will be well. But they are not always put into the
fire; and this accounts for the vast majority of miserable books over
those of positive merit. Nor will any thoroughly sincere man, who is an
author, ever be rash in precisely defining the period, when he has
completely ridded himself of his rubbish, and come to the latent gold in
his mine. It holds true, in every case, that the wiser a man is, the
more misgivings he has on certain points.
It is well enough known, that the best productions of the best human
intellects, are generally regarded by those intellects as mere immature
freshman exercises, wholly worthless in themselves, except as
initiatives for entering the great University of God after death.
Certain it is, that if any inferences can be drawn from observations of
the familiar lives of men of the greatest mark, their finest things,
those which become the foolish glory of the world, are not only very
poor and inconsiderable to themselves, but often positively distasteful;
they would rather not have the book in the room. In minds comparatively
inferior as compared with the above, these surmising considerations so
sadden and unfit, that they become careless of what they write; go to
their desks with discontent, and only remain there--victims to headache,
and pain in the back--by the hard constraint of some social necessity.
Equally paltry and despicable to them, are the works thus composed; born
of unwillingness and the bill of the baker; the rickety offspring of a
parent, careless of life herself, and reckless of the germ-life she
contains. Let not the short-sighted world for a moment imagine, that any
vanity lurks in such minds; only hired to appear on the stage, not
voluntarily claiming the public attention; their utmost life-redness and
glow is but rouge, washed off in private with bitterest tears; their
laugh only rings because it is hollow; and the answering laugh is no
laughter to them.
There is nothing so slipperily alluring as sadness; we become sad in the
first place by having nothing stirring to do; we continue in it, because
we have found a snug sofa at last. Even so, it may possibly be, that
arrived at this quiet retrospective little episode in the career of my
hero--this shallowly expansive embayed Tappan Zee of my otherwise
deep-heady Hudson--I too begin to loungingly expand, and wax harmlessly
sad and sentimental.
- title
- Chunk 5