divine postman: let us not judge but always seek to understand. first we listen then we speak. everything begins with a question seneca; whoever fails to question things will never understand.

the proverbs of all nations which are the literature of reason, or the statements of absolute truth without qualification, become a guide to a man’s life- leading him to love.

proverbs, like the sacred books of each nation, are the sanctuary of intuitions. they embody the immortal truth of nature. that which the droning world, chained to appearances, will not allow the realist to say in his own words my friend. it will suffer him to say in proverbs without contradiction.

seneca: when knowledge dies in us, so do we die. we neglect what is important; instead of giving ourselves to lifelong learning divine postman, we engage in meaningless labors, we never think about what can we give to a stranger. we choose to die in toxic relationships trading our souls for family, houses and cars.

proverbs, whose teaching is as true and omnipresent as that of birds and flies, are hourly preached in all markets, in all neighbourhoods, and in every village. proverbs are the invisible hand of love that bind all mankind.

all things are double my friend, one against another,-tit for tat; an eye for an eye; a tooth for a tooth; blood for blood; measure against measure; love for love.

give and it shall be given. he that watereth will be watered. what will you have? quoth love; pay for it and take it. to be rich is to have power over your time divine postman. institutions do not allow men time to think and to reason, thus the masses remain ignorant.

nothing venture divine postman, nothing have. you will receive compensation exactly for what you have given your life to. no more, no less. whoever does not use his hands and feet with purpose and meaning will lose his power. a man is a becoming creator.

divine postman: it is the life in the word that will save a generation. upon forsaking all worldly relations for the pursuit of knowledge, objections and criticisms will come rushing in. but patience will weather every storm seneca. she will cast fear to the winds, set the mind free and build an enduring kingdom within.

every pure and wise spirit will be misunderstood. however, the slow effect of our noble deeds will justify us when the seasons complete their work in renovating the soul. the force of character is cummulative.

harm watch, harm catch. curses always recoil on the head of him who imprecates them. if you put a chain around the neck of your servant, the other end fastens itself around your own. bad counsel confounds the adviser. the devil is an ass. it is thus written my friend because it is thus in life.

we aim at a petty end quite aside from the universal good, but our act arranges itself by irresistable magnetism in a line with the poles of the world. to live a contented life is to master the art of patience seneca. all things in nature are commanded to wait.

the moon had to wait until september 11 to light up the skies in maluti, matatiele. the stars have to wait for the sun to rest in the sea before hera opens their door. before the birds welcome a new dawn they will wait for the stars to complete their allotted time in guarding the sky with their divine knowledge. wisdom is the golden star that gives light to all mankind.

seneca: we have to make sacrifices of ourselves to preserve the human race. we are to write books, paint pictures, sing songs that will guide the future generations divine postman. let all men lay down their lives as prometheus did for the love of mankind.

the changes in the sky from morning to noon and from noon to night, teach us the fleeting nature of all things beneath the sun.

our time is limited. the more we seek to possess of life the more we lose it. yet as we let go and move by faith we begin to enjoy every moment my friend. a man cannot speak but he judges himself. with his will or against his will he draws his portrait to the eye of his companions by every word.

every opinion reacts on him who utters it. it is a thread-ball thrown at a mark, but the other end remains in the thrower’s bag. let us transform our expectations into appreciation. we all have a target that we aim at divine postman, and to reach our destiny is to be grateful for the small things.

let us make peace with our calling and obey the commands of every season. it is athena that will choose a man to sing the song of the god of the silver bow, to the whole of mankind. a believing love will relieve us of a vast load of care.

divine postman: a man is a bundle of relations, a knot of roots whose flower and fruitage is the world seneca. his faculties refer to natures out of him and predict the world he is to inhabit.

as the fins of a fish foreshow that water exists, or the wings of an eagle in the egg pre-suppose the existence of air, so it is that the vision given to us seneca will create a divine kingdom. over all things that are agreeable to his nature and genius the man has the highest right.

everywhere he may take what belongs to his spiritual estate. nor can he take anything else though all doors were open, nor can all the force of men hinder him from taking so much. it is vain to attempt to keep a secret from one who has a right to know it. it will tell itself.

that mood into which a friend can bring us is his dominion over us. to the thoughts of that state of mind he has a right. all the secrets of that state of mind he can compel. we attract what we think about. the spirit communicates through emotion, the language of the body.

seneca: let us not shun suffering for it is where wisdom is gained. we are to persevere for our truth. and be the compass pointing men to the glory in the human soul. nature will not compromise her truth divine postman!

whilst the world will be whole and refuses to be disparted we seek to act partially, and consequently we suffer unnecessary burdens divine postman. there can never be two masters that rule the heart. nature will restore a man’s soul; cities, buildings, institutions, homes, and families will kill a man’s soul.

nothing seems so easy as to speak and to be understood. yet a man may come to find that the strongest of defences and of ties, that he has been misunderstood; and he who has received an opinion my friend may come to find it the most inconvenient of bonds.

if a teacher have any opinion which he wishes to conceal, his pupils will become as fully indoctrinated into that as into any which he publishes. if you pour water into a vessel twisted into coils and angles, it is vain to say, i will pour it only into this or that my friend; it will find its level in all.

men feel and act the consequences of your doctrine without being able to show how they follow divine postman. show us a fragment of a truth, and a great poet will discover the whole truth. we are always reasoning from the seen to the unseen. hence the perfect intelligence that subsists between wise men of remote ages.

a man cannot bury his meanings in his book, but time and like-minded men will find them. aristotle had a secret doctrine, had he? what secret can he conceal from the eyes of alexander, montaigne, and shakespeare? therefore plutarch said of his works, they are published and not published.

divine postman: let every man carry the weight of his life on his shoulders. everything in our life happens for a reason seneca. all suffering, all loss, all disappointment point us toward our purpose. there is meaning in the selfless work that we do.

the fine young people despise life, they lose their natural genius behind closed doors. they care not about the beauty of the sunrise seneca, or treasure the coming of the moon. how can the bird that is born for joy sit in a cage and sing? how can a child, when fears annoy? but droop his tender wing, and forget his youthful spring!

i love to rise in a spring morn, when the birds sing outside my window, the distant poet winds his horn, and the sky lark sings with me: o what sweet company. eternity is in love with the productions of time my friend.

i am grown by sympathy a little eager and sentimental, but leave me alone and i should relish every hour and what it brought me, the potluck of the day, as heartily as the oldest gossip in the bar-room. i am thankful for small mercies. i compared notes seneca with one of my cousins who expects everything but is not prepared to give anything.

he is disappointed when anything is less than the best. i found that i begin at the other extreme, expecting nothing, and am always full of thanks for moderate goods.

i accept the clangour and jangle of contrary tendencies. in the morning i awake and find the old world, mountains, trees, birds, the old man in the garden. at noon i find children, women doing their washing, plants growing steady, maluti and matatiele.

the dear old spiritual world and even the dear devil not far off. if we will take the good we find my friend, without asking questions, we will have heaping measures. all things on earth conform to the seasons. time will give men what they invest in it.

the great gifts are not got by analysis. everything good is on the highway. the middle region of our being is our temperate zone. it is best to be passionate and rejected than lukewarm and accepted.

we may climb into the thin and cold realm of schools, offices, and houses or sink into the never ending depths of sensation. between these extremes seneca is the equator of life, of thought, of spirit, of poetry,- a straight and narrow belt. let us be certain in our action, walking with conviction in every right step.

seneca: break the rules a bit, question things; step outside your comfort zone. this life will move you divine postman with every step outside. one mode of the divine teaching is the incarnation of the spirit in a form,- in forms, like my own. i live in society, with persons who answer to thoughts in my own mind, or express a certain obedience to the great instincts to which i live.

as i take my daily walk, i meditate on the truth of plato’s word. i relate more to the wisdom of socrates, than the folly of parents. i see the presence of my thinking in the journeys of xenephon. i am certified of a common nature; and these other souls, these seperated selves, draw me as nothing else can.

they stir in me the new emotions we call passion; of love, hatred, fear, admiration, pity; thence come conversation, competition, persuasion, cities, and war. persons are supplementary to the primary teachings of the soul.

divine postman: in youth we are mad for persons. childhood and youth see all the world in them. there are no limits to the mind of a child seneca. as we age, we give in to fears, losing the nonchalance of youth, we never enjoy anything purely. life loses the sweetness of honey, and turns sour in the mouth with marriage, kids, and work.

persons themselves acquaint us with the impersonal. in all conversation between two persons tacit reference is made, as to a third party, to a common nature. that third party or common nature is not social; it is impersonal; is love.

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.

they all become wiser than they were. it arches over them like a temple my friend, this unity of thought in which every heart beats with nobler sense of power and duty, and thinks and acts with unusual solemnity. all are conscious of attaining to a higher self-possession seneca. it shines for all.

there is a certain wisdom of humanity which is common to the greatest men with the lowest, and which our ordinary education often labors to silence and obstruct. the mind is one my friend, and the best minds, who love truth for its own sake, think much less of property in truth.

they accept it thankfully everywhere, and do not label or stamp it with any man’s name, for it is theirs long beforehand, and from eternity. the learned and the studious of thought seneca have no monopoly of thought. their violence of direction in some degree disqualifies them to think truly.

seneca: everything that was given will return to its source. we need not fret and fume giving our hearts to endless worries. the purpose we have been called to fulfil divine postman will come to life when the seasons have completed their course.

we owe many valuable observations to people who are not very acute or profound my friend. and who say the thing without effort which we want and have long been hunting in vain. the action of the soul is oftener in that which is felt and left unsaid than in that which is said in any conversation.

it broods over every society, and they unconsciously seek for it in each other. we know better than we do. we do not yet possess ourselves divine postman and we know at the same time that we are much more. to know yourself is to discover that love has no end. all that we do conforms to the law of infinity; be careful what you choose to do.

divine postman: i feel the same truth how often in my countless conversations with the people that i meet seneca, that somewhat in each of us overlooks this by-play, and hera nods to hera behind each of us.

the manifestations of excellence will be pleasant in themselves. they are also both good and noble. excellence is a habit seneca that is mastered through consistency. there must be a full term of years for greatness to manifest; for one swallow or one fine day does not make spring.

the best thing in our education system is boarding school. it creates a framework of community that will remain with the lads well into their manhood. they learn to share and to communicate seneca. it matters not what distant home you come from, every relationship is formed through character.

we are forced to socialize with one another and create a conducive environment for growth. everyday we engage in sports, learning, and conversation. everyone is equal when we run barefoot kicking the football. parents and home slowly leave our minds, we learn to be. and discover there is a home within, that we share with all those whom we meet.

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divine postman: she has the car, she has the home, she has all the entertainment that she desires; but she has lost her kids. there is a cost to the life of money- making. the price that one will pay for the expansion of their estate is losing all that lives. sons and daughters ndibulele, will rebel against mothers and fathers.

motion or change and identity or rest are the first and second secrets of nature:- motion and rest. the whole code of her laws may be written on a thumbnail, or the signet of a ring. the whirling bubble on the surface of a brook admits us to the secret of the mechanics of the sky. every shell on the beach is a key to it.

a little water made to rotate in a cup explains the formation of the simpler shells; the addition of matter from year to year, arrives at last at the most complex forms; and yet so poor is nature with all her craft, that from the beginning to the end of the universe she has but one stuff.

one stuff with its two ends, to serve up all her dream-like variety. compound it how she will star, earth, wind, fire, water, tree, man, it is still one stuff and betrays the same properties.

ndibulele: one cannot have all the clutter of the world and expect to find life. when the gatherer gathers too much divine postman, nature takes out of the man and woman what she puts into their chest. swells their estate but kills their kids within. everything is in proportion friend, all things are commanded according to absolute compensation. nature hates monopolies and exceptions.

nature is always consistent, though she feigns to contravene her own laws. she keeps her laws, and seems to transcend them. she arms and equips a man to find his place and living in the earth, and at the same time plots his downfall by arming and equipping a wise youth to destroy him.

space exists to divide man and creatures; but by clothing the sides of a bird with a few feathers, and imparting wisdom to the young man she gives them both a petty omnipresence. nature’s first principle is freedom of movement, she is boundless, and desires that all creatures and men explore her beauty.

the direction is forever onward divine postman, but the poet still goes back for materials and begins again with the first elements on the most advanced stage, unsettling all things before him. if we look at nature’s work we seem to catch a glance of a system in transition.

divine postman: we cannot have life and at the same time possess material things. matter weighs the soul and blinds it of reason. i wish not ndibulele to have honors, money, power, glory,- nay! iAM content with the presence of my soul, life is enough of a gift to me, i will lay in the bosom of nature. she will grant all my needs. iAM here to live and grow rich within.

plants are the young of the world, vessels of health and vigour ndibulele; but they grope ever upward towards consciousness; the trees are imperfect men and seem to bemoan their imprisonment, rooted in the ground. in their patience they hold most power. the animal is a novice and probationer of a more advanced order.

the men, though young, having tasted the first drop from the cup of thought, are already dissipated ndibulele: the maples and ferns are still uncorrupt; yet no doubt when they come to consciousness they too will curse and swear.

flowers so strictly belong to youth my friend that adult men soon come to feel that they do not belong to the beautiful generation of the rose. they have had their day; now let the youth have theirs, and not be confined in the fears of the aged men. the young must step into the light and adorn the armour of beauty. beauty is wisdom; wisdom beauty.

ndibulele: the heart is not made of brick and mortar, neither does it find pure joy in the dollar divine postman. only love can fill the void inside. although a man will lose all things divine postman, when he has love he holds heaven and earth in his heart.

the identity of history is equally intrinsic, the diversity equally obvious. there is, at the surface, infinite variety of things; at the centre simplicity of cause. how many are the acts of one man in which we recognize the same character!

observe the sources of our information in respect to the greek genius divine postman. we have the civil history of that people, as herodotus, thucydides, xenophon, and plutarch have given it.

a very sufficient account of what manner of persons they were and what they did. we have the same national mind expressed for us again in their literature, in epic and lyric poems, drama, and philosophy; a very complete form.

then we have it once more in their architecture, a beauty as of temperance itself, limited to the straight line and the square,- a builded geometry. then we have it once again in sculpture divine postman, the tongue on the balance of expression, a multitude of forms in the utmost freedom of action and never transgressing the ideal serenity.

the greeks absorbed all the knowledge they found in nature and also compiled that which they gained from their wanderings around the world. they believed in the power of wisdom my friend and found the root of nature in man; shedding all things worldly and transcedning to a god: self-reliant, infinite, and divine.

divine postman: ‘i will show you,’ remarks hecate, ‘a love philtre compounded without drug, or herb, or witch’s spell. it is this: if you wish to be loved, love. life is given unto all men to be lived ndibulele. no creatures in nature possess anything, they enjoy the wealth of heaven and earth. we live in melancholy upon rejecting nature’s calling.

when a man gives his life to the wisdom of nature he will walk as a god among mortals. as the moon will complete her course, and fulfil her promise, so too will each man run and complete his race, when he obeys nature’s laws; let him never rush but remain forever patient uncovering every rock. the journey is the reward ndibulele, the crown is in the victory.

under the bending dome of day man and nature proceed from one root. one is leaf and one is flower; relation, sympathy, stirring in every vein. the root of nature is the soul of mankind. a man is a vessel floating in the stream of nature ndibulele, attracting all glory with his faith. he is bold and wild as the goat that he suckled on its teat when he was young.

when this spiritual light of nature shall have revealed the law of more earthly natures,- when a man has learned to worship his soul, and to see that the natural philosophy that now is, is only the first gropings of its gigantic hand, he shall look forward to an ever expanding knowledge as to a becoming creator.

ndibulele: we need not weep in vain, or wring our hands and hold our teeth because of convulsions and despairs divine postman. when we get this vantage ground of the past or of a wiser spirit in the present, we are come to see that we are begirt with natural laws which execute themselves.

let us not interfere with nature’s optimism but move in harmony with her infinite truth. we shall see, that nature is the opposite of the soul, answering to it part for part. one is seal, and one is print my friend. its beauty is the beauty of our own mind, and its glory is a reflection of the glory of the human soul.

nature then becomes the measure of our attainments. so much of nature as we are ignorant of divine postman, so much of our own minds do we not yet possess. and, in fine, the ancient precept, know thyself, and the modern precept, study nature, become at last one maxim.

divine postman: when the youth is wise he will learn what fools mothers and fathers have become. nature will grant him all the glory upholding her divine justice. even if slow, justice is certain ndibulele. the life-changing moments in life are marked by tears and not laughter. let none take your freedom away.

your genuine action will explain itself my friend and will explain your other genuine actions. your conformity explains nothing. act singly and, what you have already done singly will justify you now. your noble deeds will metamorphosis to be your crown. greatness appeals to the future. patience is the foundation to all greatness.

if i can be firm enough today to do right and scorn eyes, i must have done so much right before as to defend me now. be how it will, do right now ndibulele. always scorn appearances and you always may. the force of character is cumulative.

how lovely is a man to the gods who is content with himself. all the forgone days of virtue work their health into this. i will not be ruled by man; nature is what sustains my mind.

ndibulele: there aint no darkness that i fear divine postman, there aint no way to say i love you more, mama. all our joy lives in gratitude. fulfilment is the art of appreciation and contribution. i now know that anything is possible, i always dream without seeing obstacles; i believe the glory of man is in the morning star. all is well in the presence of love.

honor is venerable to us because it is no ephemera. it is always ancient virtue. we worship it today because it is not of today. we love it and pay it homage because it is not a trap for our love and homage, but is self-dependent, self-derived, and therefore of an old immaculate pedigree, even if shown in a young person.

i hope in these last days we have heard the last of conformity, and routine divine postman. let the words be gazetted and ridiculous henceforward. instead of the gong for dinner, let us hear a whistle from the spartan fife. let us never bow and apologize more.

when i go to visit a household, i care not what rules they have, should they not obey nature’s laws i will whip them with my simplicty and reject their meat, their clothes, and their forced kindness. i will stand here for humanity my friend, and though i would make it kind, i would make it true.

let us affront and reprimand the smooth mediocrity and squalid contentment of the times divine postman, and hurl in the face of custom and trade and office, the fact which is the upshot of all history; that there is a great responsible thinker and actor working wherever a man works; that a true man belongs to no other time or place, but is the centre of all things.

divine postman: knowledge is food for the mind. wisdom is the mind’s best nourishment ndibulele; as fruit and vegetables nourish the body, giving it light, water, and air, so too does wisdom renew and sustain the mind. when the mind is diseased the body will also be sick. beauty adorns virtue. where beauty is, virtue is present. she measures all men and all events.

ordinarily, everybody in society reminds us of somewhat else, or of some other person. character, reality, reminds you of nothing else; it takes place of the whole creation. the man must be so much that he makes all circumstances indifferent.

every true man ndibulele is a cause, a country, and an age; requires infinite spaces and numbers and time fully to accomplish his purpose;- and posterity seem to follow his steps as a train of stars.

let us never think that we are alone my friend, love will follow us wherever we go. archangels dwell in me as i model all that is truth. fear not, then, thou child infirm; there is no god dare wrong a worm. laurel crowns cleave to deserts and power to him who power exerts.

has not thy share ndibulele? on winged feet, lo! it rushes thee to meet. and all that nature made thy own, floating in air or pent in stone, will rive the hills and swim the sea, and like thy shadow follow thee. all things in nature obey both sun and moon. when a man’s hand transcends to be one with nature heaven and earth is given to him.

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keketso: an addiction is a foreign substance divine postman, that has power over your body. it is highly imperative that we are always sober in life. if possible, to eat only a plant-based diet, that we may learn to be wise. objections and criticisms we have had our fill of.

there are objections to every course of life and action, and the practical wisdom infers an indifferency, from the omnipresence of objection. the whole frame of things teaches indifferency. do not craze yourself with thinking, but go about your business anywhere. life is not intellectual or critical but sturdy.

its chief good is for well-mixed people who can enjoy what they find, without question. nature hates peeping divine postman, the riches of tomorrow belong to her, she commands that we have faith and obey time.

for time is wisest of all and will bring everything to light. to fill the hour,- that is happiness; to fill the hour and leave no crevice for a repentance or an approval.

divine postman: let food and narcortics not exercise power over our minds. the human body holds the power of sensation, and is an incredibly sensitive ecosystem keketso. to attain purity and to master ourselves, we are to manifest the power of self-control, and rely only on water.

we live amid surfaces, and the true art of life is to skate well on them. under the oldest, mouldiest conventions a man of native force prospers just as well as in the newest world my friend, and that by skill of handling and treatment. when we learn to be patient we find our greatness within. we can take hold anywhere.

life itself is a mixture of power and form, and will not bear the least excess of either. the greatest gift of life that surpasses silver and gold is wisdom keketso. we are most happy when we are solitary. to finish the moment, to find the journey’s end in every step of the road, to live the greatest number of good hours, is wisdom.

let us be poised, and wise, and our own, today. let us treat the men and women well; treat them as if they were real; perhaps they are my friend. oh! how rich men and women would be, if only they suffered for their matrimony with time. she invites us with the glory of the future and instructs us with the wisdom of the past.

keketso: it is not the part of men, but of fanatics divine postman, or of mathematicians, if you will, to say that the shortness of life considered, it is not worth caring whether for so short a duration we were sprawling in want or sitting high. since our art is with moments, let us husband them.

five minutes of today are worth as much to me as five minutes in the next millennium. all fortune lives in time. men live in their fancy, like drunkards whose hands are too soft and tremulous for successful labor. a little consideration of the conversations we share will teach us a great deal about what lives in our heart.

we cannot have both the dollar and nature. it is a tempest of fancies that men and women live in, and the only ballast i know divine postman is a respect to the present hour. without any shadow of doubt, amidst this vertigo of shows and politics, i settle myself ever the firmer in the creed that we should not postpone and refer and wish.

but do broad justice where we are, by whomsoever we deal with. accepting our actual companions and circumstances, however humble or odious as the mystic officials to whom the universe has delegated its whole pleasure for us.

divine postman: if these are mean and malignant, their contentment, which is the last victory of justice, is a more satisfying echo to the heart than the voice of poets and the casual sympathy of admirable persons.

i think that keketso however a thoughtful man may suffer from the defects and absurdities of his company, he cannot without any affectation deny to any set of men and women a sensibility to extraordinary merit.

keketso: every addiction is instilled through habits which transform the subconscious mind. our identity divine postman, lives in the subconscious mind. the habits that we exhibit everyday are an expression of the core of our being.

the subconscious mind knows only the soul. the web of habits is the flowing robe in which she is clothed. after its own law and not by arithmetic is the rate of its progress to be computed.

the soul’s advances are not made by gradation, such as can be represented by motion in a straight line divine postman, but rather by ascension of state, such as can be represented by metamorphosis,- from the egg to the worm, from the worm to the fly.

the growths of genius are of a certain total character, that does not advance the elect individual first over chatterton, then shelley, then keats, then byron, and give to each the pain of discovered inferiority. but by every throe of growth my friend the man expands there where he works, passing, at each pulsation, classes, populations of men.

divine postman: greatest of all men is he who can live with his thoughts and ponder on his natural genius like comely clouds. the subconscious mind is transformed through replacing negative habits keketso with positive ones. we regain the power over our body when we suffer for the good in the soul.

the subconscious mind will accomplish whatever it has grown accustomed to. with each divine impulse the mind rends the thin rinds of the visible and finite, and comes out into eternity, and inspires and expires its air.

it converses with truths that have always been spoken in the world my friend, and becomes conscious of a closer sympathy with vergil and ovid than with persons in the house. this is the law of moral and mental gain. the simple rise as by specific levity not into a particular virtue, but into the region of all the virtues. they are in the spirit which contains them all.

the soul requires purity, but purity is not it; requires justice, but justice is not that; requires beneficence, but is somewhat better; so that there is a kind of descent and accommodation felt when we leave speaking of moral nature to urge a virtue which it enjoins.

to the well-born child all the virtues are natural, and not painfully acquired. speak to his heart, and the man suddenly becomes virtuous. whatever great ambition we have in our heart keketso, at first, it will appear daunting; but with time it becomes possible. a man can move any mountain with his faith. all art aims to inspire.

keketso: everything originates in nature. the greatest accomplishment in all of life is to learn to be happy with oneself. as the stars are solitary so let men build their talent in solitude and their character in the stream of the world. since we are undertaking to live alone divine postman and live without company, let us make our contentment depend wholly on ourselves.

those who are capable of humility, of justice, of love, of aspiration, stand already on a platform that commands the sciences, the arts, speech and poetry, action and grace. for whoso dwells in this moral beatitude my friend already anticipates those special powers which men prize so highly.

the lover has no talent, no skill, which passes for quite nothing with his enamoured maiden, however little she may possess of related faculty; and the heart which abandons itself to the supreme mind divine postman finds itself related to all its works, and will travel a royal road to particular knowledges and powers.

in ascending to this primary and aboriginal sentiment we have come from our remote station on the circumference instantaneously to the centre of the world, where, as in the closet of nature, we see causes, and anticipate the universe, which is but a slow effect.

divine postman: the art that we create in our abundant leisure will bleed with life when we move with the seasons. let our lives be in harmony with the movement of the sun and moon keketso; and embody all the glory that lives in nature. when we depend wholly on ourselves for happiness nothing external will have power over us.

we are to always look within. the dollar in a man’s hand will never change the plans of time my friend. that which nature ordained in eternity past she will fulfil. our marriages, our children, our careers, and our homes will never change the course of the sun.

keketso: the moon is indifferent to our labors divine postman, she will wax and wain for her allotted days whether we sleep or busy ourselves in fruitless labor.

all that nature is concerned about is the soul of a man. she will grant wisdom to those who seek her. there is order in the nature of things divine postman. whoever knocks on heaven’s door, will be opened for. the splendors of time await the faithful.

the whole course of things goes to teach us faith. we need only obey. there is guidance for each of us, and by lowly listening we shall hear the right word divine postman. a little consideration of what takes place around us everyday would show us that a higher law than that of our will regulates events.

divine postman: our painful labors are unnecessary and fruitless; it is only in our easy, simple, spontaneous action that we are we strong keketso. and by contenting ourselves with obedience we become divine.

belief and love,- a believing love will relieve us of a vast load of care. o my friend love lives, amor vincit omnia! there is a soul at the centre of nature and over the will of every man, so that our calling will lead us to glory.

it has so infused its strong enchantment in nature, that we prosper when we accept its advice. and when we struggle to wound its creatures our hands are glued to our sides, or they beat our own breast.

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thucydides: concerning movement divine postman, knowledge is also one of the principles required. and not any knowledge, but that which is wisdom. the difference between wisdom and the knowledge of schooling is the manner by which wisdom is aquired and the purpose that it serves. wisdom will save a generation; schooling will destroy it.

wisdom is earned through suffering, and it teaches one to be a giver in this world, by creating unity through simplicity. schooling teaches individuals to act out of self-interest. and by inspiring pupils to work for the dollar schooling robs mankind of their womanhood and manhood.

thus they remain in the prison of ignorance without ever exploring their rich history. it would seem there is always this vindictive circumstance stealing in at unawares even into the wild poesy in which the human fancy attempted to make bold holiday and to shake itself free of the old laws,- this back-stroke, this kick of the gun, certifying that the law is fatal.

that in nature nothing can be given all things are sold my friend. a great price is paid to receive the riches of the soul.

divine postman: the knowledge of schooling thucydides, is dry facts; it does not move in harmony with nature’s laws. it divides humanity and does not strive to unite us. to find life we need to be one with nature.

our colleges promote the seperation of both mind and body by teaching children to become mere thinkers, or, still worse, the parott of other men’s thinking. the voice of wisdom is divine. it comes from thought above the will of the poet.

this is the best part of every man thucydides, which has nothing private in it; that which he does not know; that which flows out of his constitution and not from his too active invention. in the study of a single philosopher you might not find, but in the study of many you might extract as the spirit of them all. for they chanted with the same universal soul.

thucydides: wisdom yields astonishing results in a relatively short period of time. and the beautiful thing about it divine postman is that it is sustainable. it is a possession that no thief will ever take away from you. it will dismiss a man’s fears and lead him to his destiny.

wisdom is knowledge of universals, it is all that lives in the sun and moon; it holds all riches of the human soul. if a man is to pursue the ways of wisdom divine postman, he is to surrender all things and dwell forever in the glory of love. her riches surpass all the gold in the earth.

lovers of wisdom are great in learning and great in every kind of action. they move with grace and marry patience. i learned this, at least, by my experiment divine postman, that if one advances confidently in the direction of his dreams, and endeavors to live the life that he has imagined, he will meet with a success unexpected in common hours.

divine postman: whenever the knowledge of the wise is put to the test they fly on such a soaring wing that it is clear their heart and soul had been wondrously enriched by their understanding of things; conversely the common herd fail in life thucydides because they go about their knowledge in the wrong way; they learn to be consumers, and not to be a creator.

they reject the knowledge of the seasons, because they are not willing to be patient to hear the divine whispers of nature. thus they will never discover the pleasing joys of virtue my friend. in our learning we are to always ask, have i become wise or have i worked merely to fill the memory, leaving the understanding and conscience empty.

just as birds sometimes go in search of grain, carrying it in their beak without tasting it to give a beakful to their young, so do teachers and professors thucydides go foraging for knowledge in books and lodge it on the edge of their lips, only to spit it out and scatter it to the winds.

thucydides: let us leave aside the usual long comparison between the solitary life and the active one. and be prepared to forsake the meaningless labors of the common herd divine postman. our painful labors are unnecessary and fruitless. a change can never occur on the outside, when our state has not transcended on the inside.

when a man is busy with the occupations imposed by society, he will lose the opportunity to make art that will endure. in due time, love for the work of his hands my friend, will grant him courage to sacrifice all that hinders him from focusing solely on his craft.

in our estimates let us take a lesson from kings divine postman. the parts of hospitality, the connection of families, the impressiveness of death, and a thousand other things, royalty makes its own estimate of, and a royal mind will. to make habitually a new estimate,- that is elevation.

divine postman: the ambitous soul can only be content upon witnessing divine expansion in its character. we die when we give up on our dream thucydides.

what a man does, that he has my friend. what has he to do with hope or fear? in himself is his might. let him regard no good as solid but that which is in his nature and which must grow out of him as long as he exists.

the goods of fortune may come and go like summer leaves; let us scatter them on every wind thucydides as the momentary signs of our infinite productiveness. we may have our own. fortune meets us when we least expect her presence. love comes to see us without bell.

thucydides: a man’s genius, the quality that differences him from every other, the susceptibility to one class of influences, the selection of what is fit for him, the rejection of what is unfit for him divine postman, determines for him the character of the universe.

our life is not so much threatened as our perception. all things swim and glitter. ghost-like we glide through nature and should not know our place again. if any of us knew what we were doing my friend, or where we are going, then when we think we best know!

a man is a method, a progressive arrangement; a selecting principle, gathering his like to him wherever he goes divine postman. he takes only his own out of the multiplicity that sweeps and circles round him. he is like one of those booms which are set out from the shore on rivers to catch drift-wood, or like the loadstone amongst splinters of steel.

those facts, words, persons, which dwell in his memory without being able to say why, remain because they have a relation to him my friend not less real for being as yet unapprehended. his soul will lead him to the paradise in which they dwell.

divine postman: they are symbols of value to him as they can interpret parts of his consciousness which he would vainly seek words for in the conventional images of books and other minds. every man has his own kingdom that he has to find thucydides. all that he has lost will be compensated in a flood of glory.

great works of art can only be composed through undisturbed leisure. the mathematical arts were invented in egypt my friend, because the priestly class was allowed leisure. the knowledge that will inform future generations is found in the depths of solitude. the pursuit of the whole is love. human nature was originally one.

the mind that will make a new invention needs to be content with itself. what attracts my attention shall have it thucydides, as i will go to the man who knocks at my door, whilst a thousand persons as worthy go by it, to whom i give no regard.

thucydides: a few anecdotes, a few traits of character, manners, face, a few incidents divine postman, have an emphasis in my memory out of all proportion to their apparent significance if i measure them by the ordinary standards, they relate to my gift.

i will let them have their weight, and will not reject them and cast about for illustration and facts more usual in literature. what my heart thinks great is great. the soul’s emphasis is always right my friend. the gift of a child will bring a mother everlasting joy that will heal her sorrows from a failed marriage.

divine postman: the poet will speak of strange and impossible things; he will be misunderstood because he believes in the inherent good of man, and the greatness of the future. with his living word thucydides, he will teach man and woman to be immovable in their faith, to grow in patience and learn how to endure.

his wisdom will be a shelter to many. he is the genius of the age my friend. all the suffering that he has endured will justify his prize. be at rest my dear, that which you are seeking is seeking you also.

thucydides: i used to be the type of kid divine postman that would always think the sky is falling. i always asked myself: why am i so differently wired, and what kind of a twisted experiment am i involved in? in all i tried i could never conform to authority.

i did not come from a happy home, at school it was all a competition that made me lose my desire for learning. in my mind i have all these questions that teachers and parents cannot answer. i find shelter in my solitude i find safety in the woods. i make sense of the world with these words on these pages.

now i think the fact that iAM differently wired is awesome, if i wasn’t i would not be able to connect words like crosswords, and solve the problems in my life with the pen in my hand. i use the brokeness in my home and all the pain of rejection as strength to draw from. all my life i was told and taught i need to conform to authority divine postman.

i chose to search for myself within. today iAM inspired by all my journals; xenophon and plato breathe life in my heart, as i journey through their dialogues. my faith in our words sustains me through every season i walk in, my whole existence consists of this. now i know only i can stop the rain

divine postman: and when we fall love will get us there thucydides, it will be our saviour in every war that we fight.

thucydides: the world will have faith in our words divine postman, this is our legacy.

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divine postman: show me what patience can achieve darling, show me what mountains faith can move. nature is loved by what is best in us. the sunset is unlike anything that is underneath it: it wants men and women.

the beauty of nature must always seem unreal and mocking, until the landscape has human figures that are as good as itself. man is embarassed before the beauty of the rose.

if there were good men and women sinesipho, there would never be this rapture in nature. if cleopatra is in the palace nobody looks at the walls or cares to know what persian cloths furnish her bedroom.

all kingdoms bow down before her beauty, for age cannot whither her, nor custom stale her infinite variety. the critics who complain of the sickly separation of the beauty of nature from the things to be done, must consider that our hunting of the picturesque is inseparable from our protest of false society.

man is fallen my friend; nature is erect, and serves as a differential thermometer, detecting the presence or absence of the divine sentiment in man. by fault of our dulness and selfishness we are looking up to nature. but when we are convalescent nature will look up to us.

sinesipho: as we wait divine postman, we grow and learn to be strong. first my friend we need to make time for art. the divinity in our craft is found when we begin to spend time with ourselves and know who we are. we see the foaming brook with compunction: if our own life flowed with the right energy, we should shame the brook.

the stream of zeal sparkles with real fire, and not with reflex rays of sun and moon. nature fulfils the promise that she made to a man in secret. the roots of a tree we do not see, it is only the fruit that feeds us with the leaves and branches that is visible to man. the ways of love can never be understood.

divine postman: our loyalty to the gift of our hands is tested through patience. as we remain rooted in our conviction, that this is what we are on this earth to do, we will be rewarded. the deeper the roots are entrenched to the ground, the greater harvest we will yield.

a little heat sinesipho, that is a little motion, is all that differences the bald, dazzling white and deadly cold poles of the earth from the prolific tropical climates. all changes pass without violence, by reason of the two cardinal conditions of boundless space and boundless time.

st. peters cathedral affirms that it was done by us and not done by us. surely it was by man, but we find it not in our man. but we apply ourselves to the history of its production. we put ourselves into the state and place of michelangelo.

we remember the forest-dwellers sinesipho, the first temples, the adherence to the first type, and the decoration of it as the wealth of the nation increased.

the difference between men is in their principle of association. some men classify objects by color and size and other accidents of appearance; others by intrinsic likeness, or by the relation of cause and effect.

the progress of the intellect is to the clearer vision of causes, which neglects surface differences. to the poet, to the historian, to the philosopher, all things are friendly and sacred, all events profitable, all days holy, all men divine. for the eye is fastened on the life, and slights the circumstance.

every chemical substance, every plant, every animal in its growth, teaches the unity of cause, the variety of circumstance. simplicity creates unity. beauty is a circle of diversity.

sinesipho: every act rewards itself divine postman, we need to believe in the promise that nature has made. every promise of the soul has innumerable fulfilments; each of its joys ripens into a new want. through the trials and tribulations we endure nature will enrich our craft to bring us joy that will heal all our sorrows.

genius studies the causal thought divine postman, and far back in the womb of things sees the rays parting, from one orb, that diverge, ere they fall by infinite diameters.

genius watches the monad through all his masks as he performs the metempsychosis of nature. genius detects through the fly, through the caterpillar, through the grub, through the egg, the constant individual.

through countless individuals the fixed species; through many species the genus; through all genera the steadfast type; through all the kingdoms of organized life the eternal unity. nature is a mutable cloud, all-creating: soft and fluid which is always and never the same. she casts the same thought into troops of forms, as a poet makes plenty fables with one moral.

divine knowledge is earned through suffering. great literature is a manifestation of man’s victory over the stumbling blocks that society places before the glory of the human soul. through the bruteness and toughness of matter, a subtle spirit bends all things to its own will.

divine postman: we are a reflection of our craft sinesipho, to create and share our work is a human need. we find significance in our expression; our craft is complete through forming unity. the first in time and the first in importance of the influences upon the mind is that of nature. every day, the sun; and, after sunset, night and her stars.

ever the wind blows; ever the birds sing at break of dawn; ever the grass grows. every day, men and women, conversing, beholding and beholden. the blogger is he of all men whom this spectacle most engages. he must settle its value in his mind, and translate this infinite web of love to his craft.

what is nature to him? there is never a beginning, there is never an end, to the inexplicable continuity of this web of love, but always circular power returning into itself.

therein it resembles his own spirit, whose beginning, whose ending, he can never find,- so entire, so boundless. far, too, as her splendors shine, system on system shooting like rays, upward, downward, without centre, without circumference,- in the mass and in the particle, nature hastens to render account of herself to the mind.

classification begins friend. to the young mind, every thing is individual, stands by itself. by and by, it finds how to join two things, and see in them one nature; then three, then three thousand.

and so, tyrannized over by its own unifying instinct, it goes on tying things together diminishing anomalies, discovering roots running underground, whereby contrary and remote things cohere, and flower out from one stem. it presently learns, that, since the dawn of history, there has been a constant accumulation and classifying of facts.

but what is classification but the perceiving that these objects are not chaotic, and are not foreign, but have a law which is also a law of the human mind. to dwell in the presence of love we need to suffer loss; there is a crack in everything that nature has made. love will reveal itself through the healing of that wound.

the ambitous soul sits down before each refactory fact; one after another, reduces all strange constitutions, all new powers, to their class and their law, and goes on forever to animate the last fibre of organization, the outskirts of nature by insight.

sinesipho: what love will teach us divine postman through times of patience is, that the all-creating soul does not delight in short-term pleasures but concerns itself with the boundless sea and the amazon rainforest that it will inhabit.

the soul only knows certainty. we side with the hero, as we read or write, against the coward and the robber. but we have been ourselves that coward or robber,- not in the low circumstance, but in comparison with the grandeurs possible to the soul.

with consistency a great soul has simply nothing to do. he might as well concern himself with his shadow on the wall. speak what you think now in hard words and tomorrow speak what tomorrow thinks in hard words again, though it contradict everything you said today.

‘ah, so you shall be sure to be misunderstood.’ is it so bad then to be misunderstood? socrates and plato were misunderstood, and aristotle, and alexander, and seneca, and cato, and caesar, and every pure and wise spirit that ever took flesh. to be great is to be misunderstood.

i suppose no man can violate his nature. we pass for what we are. in this pleasing contrite wood-life, let us record our honest thought day by day without prospect or retrospect, and, we cannot doubt it will be found symmetrical, though we mean it not and see it not; but the soul bears witness to its existence.

divine postman: let our manhood be an advanced and still more advanced youth. we must combine the energy of man and womanhood sinesipho with the engaging unconsciousness of childhood.

our book should smell of pines and resound with the hum of bees. this is the book of mankind sinesipho, it lives because the glory of man lives. it is the hope in every heart, the smile in every face, the tears of every woman, and the laughter of every child.

sinesipho: nature will teach man and woman divine postman to act with the simplicity and grace of children. we delight most in what is natural. for nature to manifest her glory in us she demands faith. commanding all men to have a child-like genius and inborn energy.

character teaches above our wills. men imagine that they communicate their vice or virtue only by overt actions, and do not see that vice or virtue emit a breath every moment.

sinesipho: the sun and moon, earth, wind, water and fire meet my heart’s desire divine postman precisely as they met the persians and the greeks. our kingdom will be raised from humble beginnings when we choose to be brave and believe in our calling. cyrus was only a young man when he became king of persia.

he started out with a little band of persians and became the leader of the medes by their full consent and of the hyrcanians; he then conquered syria, assyria, arabia, cappadocia, both phrygias, lydia, caria, phoenicia, and babylonia.

and he was likewise king of the sacians, paphlagonians, magadidae, and very many other nations, of which one could not even tell their names; he brought under his sway the asiatic greeks also; and, descending to the sea, he added both cyprus and egypt to his empire.

divine postman: what we need most friend is focus, we need to keep our gaze on the prize knowing, that no matter what challenge life places before us, we will overcome. we are born to be kings and queens. however, we can only receive our crown upon returning to nature.

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divine postman: who will know the ways of wise athena? she will uproot and tear down and crush like pottery. oh! how she will deceive a household chaucer, raising it only to tear it down.

life invests itself with inevitable conditions, which the unwise seek to dodge, which one and another brags that he does not know, that they do not touch him;- but the brag is on his lips the conditions are in his soul.

if he escapes them in one part they attack him in another more vital part. if he has escaped them in form and in the appearance, it is because he has resisted his life, and fled from himself, and the retribution is so much death.

chaucer: when a god is angry divine postman, the higher the house the greater the fall. for many years she will let them boast in their homes, their excelling careers; but when she has come to judge, she will destroy what is most dear beginning with the children.

when people rush for offices, titles, and marriage, they cease to see the whole in each object, but only live for particulars and perceive the world to be their families. they see the sensual allurement of marriage and not the sensual hurt. they see the mermaids head but not the dragon’s tail. and think they can cut off that which they would have from that which they would not have.

wisdom is power divine postman. it is what sustains us in every season of our life. whoever rejects her immortal truth will die. how secret art thou who dwellest in the highest heavens in silence, O thou only great athena, sprinkling with an unwearied providence certain penal blindnesses upon such as have unbridled desires!

divine postman: mothers and fathers trusted in the dollar for their whole lives chaucer, and now in their old age the wheels have turned, they are losing what is most precious: life. oh! be careful what you wish for friend, a dance with the dollar will last you forever. life is worth more than gold.

there are natural means of acquiring fortune, that will sustain us. we are all born rich my friend with our own special lot, but it is only through faith alone that we can transcend and receive our true inheritance. of all the gods, hera only knows the keys that ope the solid doors within whose vaults our thunders sleep. happy is the mind content with love.

by giving ourselves to our calling we make the need felt by which we can supply and create the taste by which we are enjoyed. we take pleasure in what we love and by believing in ourselves and trusting in our natural instincts we unfold ourselves, and overcome all darkness with the light in our hands.

what is most just is noblest, health is best, pleasantest is to get your heart’s desire. we should find or make a frank and hearty expression of what force and meaning is in us.

chaucer: i have not gold in my coffers friend, but iAM clothed in wisdom. with all the riches of reasoning in my mind and body, i do nothing divine postman; nature does everything for me. she prepares the seasons for my good and commands me to obey her light.

the common experience is that a man fits himself as well as he can to the customary details of that work or trade he falls into, and tends it as a dog turns a spit. then is he a part of the machine he moves; the man is lost. we cannot be spokes on a bicycle wheel.

until he can manage to communicate himself in his full stature and proportion, he does not yet find his vocation. he must find in that an outlet for his character so that he may justify his work to their eyes. if the labor is mean, let him by his thinking and character make it liberal.

whatever we know and think divine postman, whatever in our apprehension is worth doing, that we must communicate, or men will never know and honor us aright.

divine postman: the rain chaucer is a messenger unto mankind. she brings wonderful gifts that man will enjoy for a season. all things in nature are a miracle. foolish we are my friend, whenever we take the meanness and formality of that thing we do, instead of converting it into the obedient spiracle of our character and aims.

the wisdom in nature holds dominion over all men and creatures. we like only such actions as have already long had the praise of man, and do not perceive that any thing man can do may be divinely done. we have not faith in our own genius because it is not approved of by the mob.

let us not die chaucer conforming to dead institutions, every man’s destiny is in his own hands. decision is the ultimate power. greatness is not entailed or organized in some places or duties, in certain offices or occasions; it lives within; it can only manifest when we believe in what we do not see.

what we call obscure condition or vulgar society is that condition and society whose poetry is not yet written, but which i shall presently make enviable and renowned as any. love is the conquering lionness.

chaucer: people only believe when they see results divine postman, they have not faith in all the infinite glory that lives within. they want to see the rose but never observe the seasons to understand how it perseveres and grows. we do what we must, and call it by the best names we can, and would fain have the praise of having intended the result which ensues.

when a man remains rooted in his calling, the harvest he will yield, will surpass all his wildest dreams. i cannot recall any form of man who is not superfluous sometimes. but is not this pitiful divine postman? life is not worth the taking to do tricks in.

divinity is behind our failures and follies too. the plays of children are nonsense but very educative nonsense. so it is with the largest and solemnest things, with commerce, government, religion, marriage, family, and so with the history of every man’s bread, and the ways by which he is to come by it.

like a bird which alights nowhere, but hops perpetually from bough to bough, is the power which abides in no man and in no woman, but for a moment speaks from this one, and for another moment from that one.

intellectual tasting of life will not supersede muscular activity divine postman. if a man should consider the nicety of the passage of a piece of fruit down his throat, he would starve of nutrition. the institutions that young men and women run after their whole lives promise much in the beginning.

they open stately enough, with planted trees on either side to tempt the young lad but soon become narrow and narrower and end in a squirrel track and run up a tree in desperation. so does marriage, with us; it ends in headache and discontent.

unspeakably sad and barren does life look to those who a few years ago were dazzled with the splendor of the promise of the times. there is now no longer any right course of action nor any self-devotion left among the young graduates.

divine postman: the great monuments in history exhibit astonishing simplicity. the pyramids have endured for thousands of years, and they continue to seduce us with their orion mystery. now, tell me chaucer, what legacy will shopping arcades leave behind? how narrow our minds have come to be!

our natural genius once transcended to live with the life giving star; today it is mowed by preparation, routine, and retrospect, it is consumed by the deceptive dollar. it is either a man masters the power of money or he is a victim of money.

whoever does not follow nature will suffer great pains that have no end. it defies all our culture’s fruitless labors chaucer, that a man is in perfect contentment when he has lost all things and has nothing left except his ridiculously naked self.

chaucer: he begins to know who he really is divine postman and learns that no home, no occupation, no companions, and no amount of wealth will ever bring him peace; only he can do that for himself. we are often made to feel that there is another youth and age than that which is measured from the year of our natural birth.

some thoughts always find us young, and keep us so. such a thought is the love of the universal and eternal beauty. every man parts from that contemplation with the feeling that it rather belongs to ages than to mortal life.

divine postman: the soul knows the future before it happens. the body has to travel in the river of time to meet the revelation given to it by the soul. we are living our life backwards chaucer, the end is made known to the mind before the beginning. the heart knows what it wants.

the least activity of the intellectual powers redeem us in a degree from the conditions of time. in sickness, in languor, give us a strain of poetry or a profound sentence, and we are refreshed. or produce a volume of montaigne or byron, or remind us of their names, and instantly we come into a feeling of longevity.

see how the deep divine thought reduces centuries and millenniums and makes itself present through all ages. is the teaching of socrates less effective now than it was when first his mouth was opened. the emphasis of facts and persons in my thought chaucer has nothing to do with time.

and so always the soul’s scale is one, the scale of the senses and understanding is another. before the revelations of the soul, time, space and nature shrink away. in common speech we refer all things to time, as we habitually refer the immensely sundered stars to one concave sphere.

the things we now esteem fixed chaucer shall, one by one, detach themselves like ripe fruit, from our experience, and fall. the wind shall blow them none knows whither. the landscape, the figures, matatiele, new york, are facts as fugitive as any institution past, or any whiff of mist or smoke, and so is society, and so is the world.

the soul looketh steadily forwards, creating a world before her, leaving worlds behind her. she has no dates, nor rites, nor persons, nor specialities, nor men. the soul knows only the soul; the web of events is the flowing robe in which she is clothed.

she is self-sufficing and eternally content in her divine presence. boundless, endless, and sublime the image of eternity- the throne of the invisible. the soul goes forth, dread, fathomless, alone.

chaucer: i was reflecting today divine postman on the struggles that i endured these past four years. i came to weep at the battles that i fought to save my soul. for all my hard straits i trusted in better days. a safe haven i found in the truth of this word.

i passed through many sorrows, endured great ordeals, and the burdens of mortality touched the heart. but love was always present, she dismissed my fears and taught me faith. today merit receives its reward. history honors the obedient.

today the wheel has turned, those who watched in the sidelines when i stood face to face with the wolves, are now handed their allotted suffering. for suffering wanders from one to another, touching each man in turn.

nature divine postman is indestructible, none will ever surpass the faith in the sea and the strength of the silent woods, that convince us to live with them. let no man oppose love for he will surely finish last.

divine postman: let us praise her chaucer, as she walks in beauty like the night, leading us in this life back to our own original nature, and giving us high hopes for the future. in her troops of stars she promises to restore us to our original state, healing us and making us new.

oh! darling search and you will find, believe in the silent whispers in your heart.

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sibusiso: people are in a race to destroy their body divine postman. they do not believe in their natural beauty. in every landscape the point of astonishment is the meeting of the earth and the sky.

when the sun breaks in the arms of oceania, the sky sets the earth on fire. the uprolled clouds and the colors of morning and evening will transfigure maples and alders. the difference between landscape and landscape is small but there is great difference in the beholder. the dwellings that men build clutter the beauty of nature.

divine postman: the body is divine sibusiso. it is self-sufficing and the greatest of all in the creation of the earth. it beholds the glory of heaven and earth, it rejoices in all that is simple. there is nothing so wonderful in any particular landscape as the necessity of being beautiful under which every landscape lies. nature cannot be surprised in undress. beauty breaks in everywhere.

this life of ours is stuck round with egypt, greece, persia, assyria, phoenicia, rome, britain, war, colonization, religion, state, commerce. as with so many flowers and wild ornaments grave and gay.

i believe in eternity sibusiso. i can find africa, asia, europe and the islands,- the genius and creative principle of each and all eras in my own mind. we are always coming up with the emphatic facts of history in our private experience and verifying them here; all history becomes subjective; in other words there is properly no history, only biography. every mind must know the whole lesson for itself,- must go over the whole ground. what it does not see, what it does not live, it will not know.

sibusiso: the human body divine postman has endured in every age; through famine, flood, war, plague it has stood faithful and passed on its seed. the might of nature will never die in man. heaven and earth is the arena, the glory of man is the spectacle.

only as far as we have called nature to our aid, can we reach the height of magnificence. all inquiry into antiquity, all curiosity respecting the pyramids, the excavated cities, stonehenge, the ohio circles, mexico, easter island,- is the desire to do away this wild, savage, preposterous there or then, and introduce in its place the here, the now.

divine postman: the body friend is a rock and delights not in anything soft. it is made in the fire. it is the breathe in the silent woods. the gods in the beginning divided Man into men that he might be more helpful to himself; just as the hand was divided into fingers, the better to answer its end.

the old fable covers a doctrine ever new and sublime; that there is one man,- present to all particular men only partially, or through one faculty; and that you must take the whole society to find the whole man. man is not a gardener, or a writer, or a painter, or a traveler, or a poet; but he is all. man is athlete, scholar, lover, and hero.

for the individual to possess himself he must sometimes return from his own labors to embrace all the other laborers. the state of society is one in which the members have suffered amputation from the trunk, and strut about so many walking monsters,- a good finger, a neck, a stomach, an elbow but never a man. it is only when we confront danger that we see love. the long way is the best way; there is no fire that man cannot walk through.

sibusiso: the roots of the human body are found in nature, all that it needs to function is water, light, earth, fire, and air. knowledge in the body is earned through suffering. man is metamorphosed into a thing divine postman, into many things. the gardener, who is sent out into the field to collect food, is seldom cheered by any idea of the true dignity of his ministry. he sees his bushel and his cart, and nothing beyond, and sinks into the farmer, instead of man on the farm.

his simple but patient labor will feed the city dolls who fret and fume. the teacher scarcely ever gives an ideal worth to his service, but is ridden by the routine of his craft thinking only about providing for his family. he does not see himself as nurturing the minds of the next generation. the soul is subject to dollars.

the mechanic is a machine; the attorney, a statute book; the sailor, a rope of a ship. in this distribution of functions, the blogger is the delegated intellect. in the right state, he is, man and woman thinking. in the degenerate state, when the victim of society, he tends to become a mere thinker, or, still worse, the parrot of other man’s thinking.

in this view of him as, man and woman thinking, the theory of his office is contained. him nature solicits with all her placid, all her monitory pictures; him the past instructs; him the future invites. is not, indeed, every man a student, and do not all things exist for the student’s behoof? and, finally, is not the true blogger, the only true master? but the old oracle said, ‘all things have two handles: beware of the wrong one.’

in life too often the blogger errs with mankind divine postman and forfeits his privilege. let us see him in his school, and consider him in reference to the main influences he receives. meantime nature is not slow to equip us in the divine identity to which we belong. for non-conformity the world whips you with its displeasure.

therefore a man must know how to estimate a sour face. the by-standers look askance on him in the restaurant or in the friend’s parlor. if this aversation had its origin in contempt and resistance like his own he might well go home with a sad countenance; but the sour faces of the multitude, like their sweet faces, have no deep cause, but are put on and off as the wind blows and the newspaper directs.

divine postman: all history sibusiso lives in the human body and as it returns to its origin it will manifest glory. truly sibusiso our history is the guide that leads us to our destiny. a terror that scares us from self-trust is our consistency; a reverence for our past act or word because the eyes of others have no other data for computing our orbit than our past acts, and we are loath to disappoint them.

but why should you keep your head over your shoulder? why drag about this corpse of your memory, lest you contradict somewhat you stated in this or that public place? suppose you should contradict yourself, what then?

it seems to be a rule of wisdom never to rely on your memory alone, scarcely even in acts of pure memory, but to bring the past for judgement into the thousand-eyed present, and live ever in a new day.

sibusiso: experience is the only language that the human body understands. without action the thought will never ripen into truth. the mind can only receive knowledge through sensation. we hold the power to every problem that we encounter in our lives.

nothing on this earth friend will ever surpass the glory of man’s mind and body. the sooner we rid ourselves of the old the greater force that fortune will meet us with the new. do not fear the light, there is strength in the blindness of love. we can only hear the song of apollo in solitude; pallas athena will utter oracles only in silence. the golden star has no companion but is a companion unto itself. it gives its own light and guards the sky with the wisdom that lives within. teaching man that light is love.

divine postman: there is a pleasure in the pathless woods, there is a rapture on the lonely shore, there is society where none intrudes, by the deep sea, and music in its roar: i love not man the less but nature more. from these our intercourse, in which i steal from all i may be, or have been before, to mingle with the universe and feel what i can never express, yet cannot all conceal. roll on, thou deep and dark blue ocean,- roll!

ten thousand fleets sweep over thee in vain; man marks the earth with ruin- his control stops with the shore;- upon the watery plain the wrecks are all thy dead, nor doth remain a shadow of man’s ravage, save his own, when for a moment, like a drop of rain, he sinks into thy depths with bubbling groan. without a grave, unknelled, uncoffined, and unknown.

his steps are not upon thy paths,- thy fields are not a spoil for him,- thou dost arise and shake him from thee; the vile strength he wields for earth’s destruction thou dost all despise, spurning him from thy bosom to the skies, and send’st him, shivering in thy playful spray and howling, to his gods, where haply lies his petty hope in some near port or bay, and dashest him again to earth:- there let him lay.

sibusiso: the armaments which thunderstrike the walls of rock built cities, bidding nations quake, and monarchs tremble in their capitals. the oak leviathans, whose huge ribs make their clay creator the vain title take of lord of thee and arbiter of war; these are thy toys, and, as the snowy flake, they melt into thy yeast of waves, which mar alike the armada’s pride or spoils of trafalgar. thy shores are empires, changed in all save thee- phoenicia, assyria, persia, greece, libya, rome, britain, america, what are they?

thy waters washed them power while they were free and many a tyrant since: their shores obey the stranger, slave, or savage; their decay has dried up realms to deserts: not so thou, unchangeable save to thy wild waves’ play time writes no wrinkle on thine azure brow such as creation’s dawn beheld, thou rollest now. thou glorious mirror where mighty hera’s form glasses itself in tempests.

in all time, calm or convulsed- in breeze, or gale, or storm, icing the pole or in the torrid clime dark-heaving;- boundless, endless, and sublime- the image of eternity-the throne of the invisible; even from out thy slime the monsters of the deep are made; each zone obeys thee: thou goest forth, dread, fathomless, alone.

divine postman: and i do love thee, ocean! and my joy of youthful sports was on thy breast to be borne like thy bubbles, onward: from a boy i wantoned with thy breakers- they to me were a delight; and if the freshening sea made them a terror- twas a pleasing fear, for i was as it were a child of thee. and trusted to thy billows far and near, and laid my hand upon thy mane, as i do here. i prosper in the presence of your waters.

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