Thursday, August 12, 2010

from The Autobiography of Henry Adams

He never reached Concord, and to Concord Church he, like the rest of mankind who accepted a material universe, remained always an insect, or something much lower—a man. It was surely no fault of his that the universe seemed to him real; perhaps—as Mr. Emerson justly said—it was so; in spite of the long-continued effort of a lifetime, he perpetually fell back into the heresy that if anything universal was unreal, it was himself and not the appearances; it was the poet and not the banker; it was his own thought, not the thing that moved it. He did not lack the wish to be transcendental.

1 comment:

  1. Making the choice to believe one thing and not another is a difficulty for me, since I find that both extremes are often borne out in experience. Heresy is probably inevitable, I think. Each of us have to "sweat through fogs" to find out where we put our feet. It's strange how often what we believe can make us crazy because it contradicts our experience.