divine postman: our earth is dry, ayanda. the cracks in the bare streams are the cracks within us. we have neglected the good earth, and chosen to exchange the glory in nature for the bustling city. the condition of the earth is the condition of man.

the lords of life, the lords of life,- i saw them pass in their own guise. like and unlike portly and grim, use and surprise, surface and dream. succession swift and spectral wrong, temperament without a tongue. and the inventor of the game without name,- some to see some to be guessed.

they marched from east to west, ayanda, little man least of all among the legs of his guardians tall, walked about with puzzled look. him by the hand dear nature took; dearest nature strong and kind whispered, ‘darling never mind! tomorrow they will wear another face, the founder thou, these are thy race.’

ayanda: where do we find ourselves, divine postman? in a series of which we do not know the extremes, and believe that it has none. we wake and find ourselves on a stair; there are stairs below us, which we seem to have ascended; there are stairs above us, many a one, which go upward and out of sight.

i have seen that all men are cowards, my friend. they desire riches but are not prepared to suffer for them. they are discontent with their lives and cheat on their wives; pretending to be loyal husbands before their children as they sleep with a restless heart.

what would this world be without wise mothers, divine postman? they clean up the mess that fathers make. all that men are concerned about when they meet our mothers is to gratify the senses. the soul says, ‘the man and woman shall be one flesh and one soul.’ the men will join the flesh only. and when a baby is conceived, they grumble and flee from responsibility.

divine postman: or, they claim, ayanda, that they will work for the dollar to raise the child but in all their busyness they become distant and never connect with the child emotionally. thus the young lad is moved from school to school, from hostel to hostel, as the parents hand him over to an institution.

they never have the time to raise him, as they are too busy working. he knows not where home is, my friend; he knows not who his mother is; he knows not who his father is. he begins to question things and learns of the abuse that his mother has endured while he is away at school and learns of the holes in the marriage.

upon the death of his mother he fights for her legacy and quits university to confront the truth. he learns that all he had, ayanda, was a father who was a manipulative bastard. he looks to his soul for guidance and sees many a revelation about his brave mother whom he never got to spend time with, but will honor her with the great talent he has been given.

ayanda: sleep lingers all our lifetime about our eyes, as night hovers all day long in the boughs of the fir tree. all things swim and glitter, our life is not so much threatened, divine postman, as our perception. ghost-like we glide through nature and should not know our place again.

did our birth fall in some fit of indigence and frugality in nature that she was so sparing of her fire and so liberal of her earth, that it appears to us that we lack the affirmative principle? and though we have health and reason, divine postman, yet we have no superfluity of spirit for new creation. we choose to dwell among the dry bones of the past, and fear the glory of the moon’s promise.

we have enough to live and bring the year about, my friend, but not an ounce to impart or invest in the future. ah! that our genius were a little more of a genius. we subject ourselves to poverty by neglecting the glorious soul. if any of us, divine postman, knew what we were doing, or where we are going, then we think we best know. we do not know today whether we are busy or idle.

there is so much fretting and fuming in the masses, that you would think something great was being done. the masses are not men, but poor men, that is, who would be rich if only they decided to think. however, they arrive with pains and sweat and fury nowhere. when all is done, divine postman, it is for nothing.

divine postman: they are like one who has interrupted the conversation of a great company of men to make his speech and now has forgotten what he went to say. the appearance strikes the eye everywhere, ayanda, of an aimless society of aimless nations. were the ends of nature so great and congent as to exact this immense sacrifice of men?

they desire great fortunes but never study the almighty laws of fortune and the roots that she abides in. oh! how you make fools out of men athena, giving them families and households, but never opening your divine stores. for none seek to know your mind. they seperate and split apart, never pursuing the whole of which all the parts consist of. is the earth not a sea of beauty, ayanda; then why do men beg for a cup of water?

all our days are so unprofitable while they pass, that ’tis wonderful where or when we ever got anything of this which we call wisdom, virtue, poetry. we never got it on any dated calendar day. some heavenly days must have been intercalated somewhere, like those that hermes won with the dice of the moon, that osiris might be born.

how many divine individuals can we count in society, ayanda, how many genuine brave actions, how many authentic utterances? so much of our time is preparation, so much routine, and so much retrospect, that the pith of each man’s genius contracts itself to a few hours. we want anything but our lives, my friend. all foolishness suffers the burden of dissatisfaction with itself.

ayanda: our life looks trivial, divine postman, and we shun to record it. notwithstanding this necessity to be published adequate expression is rare. it is said that all martyrdoms looked mean when they were suffered.

thus their sacrifices justify all the beauty that manifested through them. we do not readily give ourselves to the hardships of life, that we will be eternally rich; we idolize all that we see and fumble the fortune in our hands.

every ship is a romantic object except that we sail in. embark, and the romance quits our vessel and hangs on every other sail in the horizon. men seem to have learned of the art of perpetual retreating and repose, divine postman. they are always peeping above their walls and fences, never content with the lot they chose, or the one fate threw in their way.

‘yonder uplands are rich pasturage, and my neighbor has fertile meadow, but my field,’ says the quarelous farmer, ‘only holds the world together.’ in all his endeavors, man never once considers the sustenance of nature, but chooses to oppose her laws, thus perceiving life to be a competition and not a co-operation with nature. it is wise to follow the truth.

it is the trick of nature, divine postman, thus to degrade today; a good deal of buzz, and somewhere a result slipped magically in. every roof is agreeable to the eye, my friend, until it is lifted; then we find tragedy and moaning women and hard-eyed husbands, and deluges of lethe, and the men ask, ‘what is the news?’ as if the old were so bad.

they choose to have children, divine postman, and wives, and large hectares of land, unaware of the price they will pay for the rest of their lives to maintain a family and a household. what is sweet in the beginning will have a most bitter ending. and what is bitter in the beginning will receive the glory of the golden star. all is well, my friend, that ends well. patience, patience,- we shall win at last. there is victory yet for all justice.

divine postman: today the fools envy us, ayanda, for all our superabundant riches that we inherited from the sun and moon. but they are ignorant of the price that we paid; they know not the times of poverty, the times of absolute solitude, and the times of rejection. they know not the sorrows of the martyr, but idolize his crown. oh! so many tears we shed for these millions.

once the mind has understood the roots of fortune, it will grow eternal riches,- the soul is infinite in its divine growth. happy is he who will take a leap of faith, ayanda, and believe in the whispers of the sea. it is good to be grateful for the gift of life, and live in love. any man who does not think what he has is more than ample, is an unhappy man, even if he should be ruler of many servants.

it matters not whether one sleeps in a bed chamber with many virgins around him or whether one sleeps on the bare earth clutching his body. what matters most is to be thyself, and know thyself to be; and ever at thy season be thou free. the truth, my friend will prevail over all things. what eternity writ in the sun and moon, time will bring to light.

ayanda: let us not be discouraged upon cruel disappointments, my friend, but always remember that wisdom and virtue in due time will yield justice. never mind the ridicule, divine postman, never mind the defeat,- up again old heart! there is victory yet for all justice. 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. hast not thy share, divine postman? 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.

let us move in harmony with the season in our life and understand that nature is preparing us for a more illustrious abode. to live a life dictated by a paycheck is not really a life,- thinking that a job will solve all your problems and make you safe and secure is lying to yourself. the condition of the soul, divine postman, will never change because of your office or title. nothing great will ever come to you when the soul has not been moved by suffering to the atmosphere of love.

divine postman: it is only wisdom that can master the power of money,- man cannot be a slave to the dollar, he is the crown of all creation. it is good, ayanda, to forsake dollar, companion, mother, father, brother, sister, wife, for the pursuit of divine knowledge. she will fill up the vacancy between heaven and earth, and compensate every loss with abundant fortune, that grows in everlasting beauty.

when one rose dies, ten thousand more will grow. truly speaking, my friend, all that money is, is an illusion. what truly lives is your labor and the ends of labor which are wisdom and wealth can only be answered through obedience to pure motives and by the real exertions of both body and mind on knowledge and virtue. it is only in nature where we will see the whole.

without wisdom all external possessions, all honors, and all prosperity is meaningless; we must destroy in order to rebuild on the great rock. for all men live by truth, divine postman, and stand in need of expression. wisdom is the ocean that will never fail to deliver us,- she is the truth that will draw all men to her sooner or later; she is the light that lights the whole world,- the only hope for man.

ayanda: every moment instructs, and every object: for wisdom is infused into every form. it has been poured into us as blood, divine postman; it convulsed us as pain; it slid into us as pleasure; it sheltered us in dull, melancholy days, or in days of cheerful labor. we did not guess its worth until after a long time, when it asked to be the only possession in our life.

by nature we live in an ecosystem and not in a competitive struggle for survival. our nature is designed to benefit a community and not select individuals. we are bound by love, divine postman, not by money. the harvest of wisdom will give shelter to many nations of men, women, creatures, plants, and flowers. for wisdom is the whole and this because the heart in thee is the heart of all.

not a valve, not a wall, not an intersection is there anywhere in nature, my friend, but one blood rolls uninterruptedly an endless circulation through all things that live, as the water of the earth is all one sea, and, truly seen, its tide is one. oh! how abundantly rich we are in obedience, time will teach the patient heart.

unity can only be achieved through simplicity. the lowly who listen with humility to the message that the sun and moon bring will unite mankind. all men are allocated resources according to nature’s eternal providence. however, the dollar deceives men and women into thinking that they provide for themselves. when it is the sun, the moon, the winds, and the rain that grow their food, and supply all their daily needs.

paper money is a means of rejecting the everlasting truth of the seasons and leading an unnatural existence. it is only through studying nature and imitating her that we are millionaires. never do anything for money, for thou art apollo’s dearest child. nature gives us wisdom, divine postman, that we will not sell ourselves cheaply, but know that we are very great. the waves of the sea move forever forward and never backward.

oh! how fortune will rush the patient mind upon her coming. she is the boundless waters that will burst forth and quench the thirst of our long patient labor. the good is worthy to be pursued for its own sake, the ends of the earth will release our allotted glory at the perfect moment when apollo has aligned the stars, and hera has completed her great work in us. let loose those heavenly stores hecate, and fulfill the promise you made in styx,- eldest daughter of back-flowing ocean.

and let your divine glory not destroy us, but give us the wisdom of pallas athene to sustain it, and the heaven which the world exists to realize will be the transformation of genius into practical power. oh! we wait for that great day, divine postman, when love will burn in the heart-beat of the world like some forest fire,- invincible and forever silent.

divine postman: the things that are really for thee, ayanda, gravitate to thee. you are running to your friend. let your feet run but your mind need not. be at rest, my friend, for that which you are seeking is hounding after thee also. i have been to the mountaintop and i have found the promise land. you are preparing with eagerness to go out and render a service to which your calling and your taste invite you, the love of man and the hope of immortal fame.

has it not occured to you, ayanda, that you have no right to go, unless you are equally willing to be prevented from going? oh! believe as thou livest, that every sound that is spoken over the wide earth, which thou oughtest to hear, will vibrate on thine ear! every proverb, every book, every by-word, that belongs to thee for aid or comfort, shall surely come home through winding or open passages.

many will not believe in their crown, and will shun suffering. they will not give glory to the wondrous heaven and fruitful earth, but will eat meat while never shepherding any sheep. they mock nature with these cars and these homes, and mark the earth with ruin as they live for their wretched bellies. however, nature cannot be cheated there will be a great price to be paid, by all those who gather too much. nature will swell their estate but kill them along with their children.

thus maintaining her infinite balance. there is always some leveling circumstance, ayanda, that puts down the overbearing, the strong, the rich, the fortunate, substantially on the same ground with all others. nature hates monopolies and exceptions, my friend. the waves of the sea do not more speedily seek a level from their loftiest tossing than the varieties of condition tend to equalize themselves.

ayanda: the judgement of parents who exhaust the earth’s resources will fall not only upon them, but on their children and grandchildren also. nature will raise a house only to crush it to the ground. for every thing that man builds will return to the earth; it is only the divine creations of the soul that will endure beyond time. i see fire, divine postman, on the mountaintop and i know apollo will remember me.

the grace of giving is what set me free to soar on the wings of archangels. today my life is a service unto all humanity. ineffable is the union of man and nature in every act of the soul. the simplest person who in his integrity worships nature, becomes nature; holding the whole of heaven and earth in his mind. yet for ever and ever the influx of this better and universal self is unsearchable. it inspires awe and astonishment.

how dear, how soothing, how serene arrises the idea of nature to man, divine postman; peopling the lonely place, effacing the scars of cruel disappointments and rejections. when we have broken the god of tradition, and ceased from the god of rhetoric, then may the earth, with her stars and abounding waters, fire the heart with her presence. for joy will come to the faithful, and heaven will be their true inheritance.

nature will create equality for all mankind and point them to their native riches. she is the doubling of the heart, nay, divine postman, the infinite enlargment of the heart with a power of growth to a new infinity on every side. she inspires in us an infallible trust to create a sublime future. we have not the conviction, but the sight, the best is the truth.

and may in that thought easily dismiss all particular uncertainties and fears, and adjourn to the sure revelation of time the solution of our private riddles. in the presence of law to our mind we are overflowed with a reliance so universal that it sweeps away all cherished hopes and the most stable projects of mortal condition in its flood. we believes that we cannot escape from our inherent good.

so mournful is a life without the daily cultivation of virtue. it is dark on all sides, as it degrades into the barbarism of vulgar prosperity. the world is one, divine postman, the actions in matatiele affect those in new york. what you feel in your heart and confirm to be true in nature, is what millions of men and women also feel in their moments of solitude.

let us deal with the cause that nature has placed us in, and not flee from reality. you hold the key, divine postman, to your liberation and divine riches. oh! weep not, my dear, thy suffering is only for a while, thy joy is everlast; in the middle of difficulty lies opportunity. the things that are really for thee gravitate to thee. love and you shall be loved, give and it shall be given unto you. he that watereth will be watered.

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divine postman: once upon a time, emerson, people carried water on their heads, they walked to the river in a group and would have conversations about life and the journey of womanhood. through the act of drawing water they were united in spirit. they valued it and thought of it to be sacred.

the ancients made ocean and tethys the parents of creation, and described the oaths of the gods as being by water, to which they give the name styx. for what is oldest, emerson, is most honourable. and the most honorable thing is that by which one swears.

nature will swear her oath to man in water. it is agreed by the ancients that water is the universal primary substance. no man will ever bend the will of water. what makes homer, hesiod, herodotus, eternal is that they speak from within, and tell of all that they experienced in their journeys.

it is no use to speak to me from without, emerson, i will not listen to you, for i can easily do that myself. socrates always speaks from within and in a degree that transcends all others. in that is the miracle. i believe beforehand that it ought so to be. we must always speak from within the veil, where the word is one with that it tells of.

emerson: all things contain water, my friend, a man’s wealth lives in the sea. a man is rich when his body is water. how lovely is this ocean of air that we breathe, divine postman. the great sea is a mirror of the eternal riches of the soul. the same omniscience flows into the intellect, and makes what we call genius.

all wisdom lives in earth, water, and fire. our intellectual gifts need to always make the impression of virtue, and not become vices that stand in the way of our advancement in truth. genius is a larger imbibing of the common heart.

there is in all great poets a wisdom of humanity which is superior to any talents they exercise. the author, the wit, the partisan, the fine gentlemen, does not take place of the man. humanity shines in homer, in vergil, in ovid, in milton, in chaucer, in spenser, in shakespeare. they are content with truth, divine postman. and do notcompromise it.

they use the positive degree. they seem frigid and phlegmatic to those who have been spiced with the frantic passion and violent coloring of inferior but popular writers. a poet’s fame is in nature, not in the tongues of men. only the words that are sourced from the living water will quench centuries of men and women.

divine postman: a silent mind is as powerful as the waves of the sea. when its time has come it will rise beyond the frozen mountains, and cover the whole earth with its great glory. cursed be the man who opposes water, he will be destroyed by the rushing streams and when the still dams are let loose he will drown in misery.

oh! how we will rejoice, emerson, when the rivers, the fountains, and all the waterfalls will be uncurbed and race an unbridled course to the sea,- where all things will gather,- raising us in the mighty waves, to be honoured for all our faith. the glory in the ocean is the glory that we will receive. nature will give superabundantly to the patient mind.

the soul’s communication of truth is the highest event in nature, my friend. since it then does not give somewhat from itself, but it gives itself, or passes into and becomes that man whom it enlightens; or, in proportion to that truth he receives, it takes him to itself.

emerson: a thrill passes through all men at the reception of new truth, or at the performance of a great action, which comes out of the heart of nature. the flashing thunderbolt sends shivers through our body as we tremble before the might of apollo. in these communications, divine postman, the power to see is not seperated from the will to do.

but the insight proceeds from obedience, and the obedience proceeds from a joyful perception. all good lives in nature, she dwells in everlasting peace and treads softly in the heart of man. it is good to be always solitary,- more rich will our harvest be,- persist on your natural genius, divine postman, the seasons will justify your labor.

there is no good in the city, my friend, it is an attempt to manipulate nature. and in the end to destroy the beauty in man and woman. the soul is too precious to be sacrificed at the altar of materialism. the wise will take a leap of faith and return to their roots. leave the city behind and see what you will find,- a little patience will go a long way.

a great exodus there will be, divine postman, whereby man and woman sell and give all that they accumulated in cities to live in the silent woods, and listen to the song of the mountains. love will wipe away every transgression and set the captives free, healing the soul through quiet obedience.

divine postman: i find it hard to believe, emerson, that our culture loves not to read. they think that they have to be professors to translate thucydides. no one reads shakespeare in their leisure, or suckles the metamorphosis of ovid for the joy of it. our society is too busy to give to letters anymore.

we do not see literature as a means to teach us of the infinite splendor in the soul. the soul is superior to its knowledge, wiser than any of its works. the great poet makes us feel our own wealth, emerson, and then we think less of his compositions. he apprises us of our commonwealth.

the inspiration which uttered itself in the metamorphosis of ovid and the aeneid of virgil could utter things from day to day forever. it is the spirit in the living word that will shape the soul that beholds the great book. the wealth of intelligent activity in all of plutarch’s lives is the wealth in me.

the unceasing labor of michelangelo and the patience in the mind of leonardo is the strength and wisdom that i behold. why then should i make account of the mona lisa, emerson, or the cistine chapel, as if i had not the soul from which they fell as syllables from the tongue?

emerson: we do not teach ourselves the latin or the greek. we choose to cower in the shadow of institutions and never suffer for the knowledge of the soul. as a culture, divine postman, we have entrusted institutions with our learning. we do not understand that the world exists for the education of each man.

what people do is to pay some money to gain knowledge. thus learning becomes perverted as men and women will learn for an incentive. they perceive the dollar as a reward for learning and lose true riches. wisdom is the source of all fortune,- it is the blood that flows in our veins, and it will only come to life when we become a child. those that live for the dollar, divine postman, have not faith in the golden star, that will remember our patient labor.

nature can only compensate our suffering, and is indifferent about book learning. there will be truth in our studies when they conform to the laws of the sun and moon. the books that we read are as good as the virtue they impart. all knowledge is a waste, my friend, when it fails to renovate the condition of the soul. our learning is true when it returns us to our history. the further we stray from our natural roots, the further we will be from the grace of hera.

your history, my friend, will guide you to your destiny. the divine energy in true literature does not descend into individual life on any other condition than entire possession. it comes to the lowly and simple; it comes to whomsoever will put off what is foreign and proud; it comes as insight; it comes as serenity and grandeur. when we see those whom it inhabits, divine postman, we are apprised of new degrees of greatness.

divine postman: from that inspiration the man comes back with a changed tone. he does not talk with men with an eye to their opinion. he tries them. it requires of us, my friend, to be plain and true. people give up too easily on love, they never dedicate their whole life to the great thought that beats in their heart. schooling will breed consumers; it is only nature that can mould creators.

it is thus written, my friend, because it is thus in life. our action is overmastered and characterised above our will by the law of nature. we aim at a petty end, emerson, quite aside from the public good, but our act arranges itself by irresistable magnetism, in a line with the poles of the universe. oh! vanity, vanity, vanity are all things without wisdom. yes, there is a love above, my friend, that will never fail the patient below.

the art of life has a pudency, and will not be exposed. every man, emerson, is an impossibility until he is born; everything is impossible until we see a resounding success, that will make our jaws drop. the ardors of piety agree at last with the coldest skepticism,- that nothing is of us or our doing,- that all is of the great star. nature will not spare us the smallest leaf of laurel.

all writing comes by the grace of hera, and all doing and all having. everything is supplied from the vital force of the eternal. it is not good to trust in man or in anything that he makes, but to live in matrimony with the winds that blow, the waters that flow, the fire that burns, and the earth that gives. nature will never fail us, but will serve us all our days, from cradle to the grave.

the first in time and the first in importance of the influences upon the mind is that of nature. everyday, the sun; and, after sunset, night and her stars. ever the winds blow; ever the grass grows. everyday, men and women, conversing, beholding and beholden. the blogger is he of all men, emerson, whom this spectacle most engages.

emerson: he must settle its value in his mind. what is nature to him, divine postman? there is never a beginning, there is never an end, to the inexplicable continuity of this web of hera, but always circular power returning into itself. therein it resembles his own spirit, whose beginning, whose ending, he never can 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. i will teach the college dropouts, divine postman, and point them to the source of all knowledge,- the human soul. our purpose on this earth is to study nature.

we can only discover our identity in the presence of nature. we are to give of the knowledge that we have found, and not to possess it, but to empower the entire human race. the millions, that around us are rushing into life, cannot always be fed on the sere remains of foreign harvests. events, actions arise, that must be sung, that will sing themselves. let us uphold the truth, divine postman, in all that we do, and be the original unit designed by these waters, these fires, and this earth.

divine postman: whatever branch of knowledge we give ourselves to, if it is not guided by the spirit of nature, it is meaningless. as we make sacrifices of ourselves, emerson, by rejecting a family, a home, and material possessions that do not serve our purpose, we will raise many sons and daughters.

we can only feed the masses on truth when we abide in regions that are hidden in time. they lose themselves as they possess themselves. it is one of those fables, emerson, which, out of an unknown antiquity, convey an unlooked-for wisdom. that in the beginning the gods, divided man into men and women, that he might be more helpful to himself; just as the hand was divided into fingers, the better to answer its end.

give and it shall be given you, my friend, he that watereth will be watered. the world looks like a multiplication table or a mathematical equation, which, turn it how you will, balances itself. take what figure you will, emerson, its exact value, nor more nor less, still returns to you. it is sensible to live alone, and learn to grow.

the great treasures of the earth dwell in the remotest parts, where only a few will journey to. every act rewards itself, my friend, or, in other words, intergrates itself in a twofold manner; first in the thing or in real nature; and secondly in the circumstance or in apparent nature. to the young mind everything is individual, stands by itself, thus classification begins.

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, emerson, that, since the dawn of history there has been a constant classifying of facts. but what is classification but the perceiving that these objets are not chaotic, and are not foreign, but have a law which is also a law of the human mind?

emerson: the ambitious soul, divine postman, sits down before each refractory fact; one after another, reduces all strange contitutions, 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. the wise mind will trace all things from their roots.

all things in nature, divine postman, are modelled on numbers. the whole of heaven is a musical scale. the elements of numbers are the elements of all things. beauty is a number, perfection is a number, the golden star will rise after the seasons complete a set number of revolutions. the harvest that a man will yield is modelled on the number of his patient labor.

numbers become words, words turn into shapes, and the combination of the three will produce sound; the influence of a man’s voice is determined by the depth of the number that he has suffered for. the effect of any writing on the public mind, divine postman, is mathematically measurable by its depth of thought.

how much water does it draw; what roots does it hold; does it reach the depth of the ocean? it will awaken the thought that it has explored. if it inspires you to think, divine postman, if it lift you from off your feet with the great voice of eloquence, then the effect is to be wide, slow, permanent, over the minds of men.

the great writer will move with the motion of the wise clouds,- and impart patience, serenity, and harmony in his craft. his mind is endowed with the grace of the heavens. the sun and moon, the clouds and stars belong in his own mind. he is nature, and speaks to the heart of mankind.

divine postman: the way to speak and write what shall not go out of fashion, emerson, is to speak and write sincerely, and express the truth that you feel in the soul. the argument which has not power to reach my own practice i may well doubt will fail to reach yours.

look in thy heart, and write, emerson! he that writes to himself writes to an eternal public. that statement only is fit to be made public which you have come at in attempting to satisfy your own curiosity. the writer who takes his subject from his ear, my friend, and not from his heart, should know that he has lost as much as he seems to have gained.

and when the empty book has gathered all its praise, and half the people say, ‘what poetry! what genius!’ it still needs fuel to make fire. that only profits which is profitable, my friend. life alone can impart life; and though we should explode we can only be valued as we make ourselves valuable. let success not limit us, emerson. let the thirst for wisdom move us forward. the soul is not a station but a progress, and will give new knowledge through positive motion.

emerson: there is a goddess above, divine postman, who will provide for all creatures and all mankind below, most beloved to her are the orphans whom she guides in patient love. she will give them a superabundant harvest, as they remained faithful to the cause of wisdom in spite of all indignities suffered. the whole earth is a wonderful dome, that listens to every thought, and feels a heart’s yearning.

there is a mind in these waters, that will shepherd and guide the lost ones. 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. there is only so much time that each man, each woman, and each creature has been given on this earth. we all have a spiritual guide that will lead us to our destiny.

we die when we reject our calling; and grow in love when we follow it. apollo will never fail to give a sign in the great skies. he writes poetry, as he shepherds these clouds over the mountains. a living faith is the fire that sets the heart ablaze, and imparts the mind of the silent one. patience, patience, divine postman, with the shades of all the good and great for company; and for solace, the perspective of your own infinite life.

and for work, the study and the communication of principles, the making those instincts prevalent, the conversion of the world. the healthy senses will make the healthy work, that nourishes the mind, the body, and the soul of man. truly my friend we are rich, it is impossible for man to be poor in the arms of the wise stars. all that is needed from us is to suffer for this unfailing love.

the results of life are uncalculated and uncalculable. the years teach much which the days never know. the moon is all wise and knows all things; the sun will bring her wisdom to light. the persons and events who compose our company, converse, and come and go, and design and execute many things, and somewhat comes of it all, divine postman, but an unlooked for result.

go your way my friend, athena will take you there,- to will is to believe. start something today, and your faith in your construction of it will raise you to be a man; the journey, divine postman, is the reward. the individual is always mistaken.

he designed many things, and drew in the gods as coadjutors. it turns out somewhat new and very unlike what he promised himself. he is in for a mill, but receives a million. humility always comes before honor.

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divine postman: everyone believes in something and will serve somebody. we all make a sacrifice daily, reflecting what we hold dear. our actions reflect our thinking. one will choose nature; another will choose the barren city. one will give life; and one will take it away. one will live for wisdom; another will live for the dollar. all that is natural is all that is free,- we are encamped in the presence of nature not domesticated.

life will be imaged, but cannot be divided nor doubled. any invasion of its unity will be chaos. the soul is not twin-born, shelley, but the only begotten. and though revealing itself as a child in time, child in appearance, is of a fatal and a universal power, admitting no co-life. the golden star has no companion, my friend, the universe is its companion. it is the light of the world.

there can be no such thing as a permanent relationship in nature, all things revolve around the centre of the life-giving object,- they live, they learn, they love, they grow. generations of men are like the leaves. in winter, winds blow them down to earth, but then, when spring season comes again, budding wood grows more. and so with men,- one generation grows, another dies away.

shelley: people will come and go, as the waters that flow and the winds that blow. we pass them on the street and live with them for a while. when the season to be with them is complete, we will embrace them one last time and leave, following the road that the moon has created in our soul. let us learn that in this life we will not keep anything, divine postman, but will lose everything.

death is the destination that we all share. great and mean meet massed in death, who lends what life must borrow. as long as skies are blue and fields are green, evening must usher in night, night urge the morrow, month follow month with woe, and year wake year to sorrow. all things in nature are fulfilled through faith,- the harvest that a tree will yield is in proportion to all that it has believed.

no man has the right to take a life, whether of a creature or a man. the blood of an animal will hold accountable all those who consume the flesh. a great price has to be paid, divine postman, for one to enjoy the pleasure of eating flesh. everything has two handles, my friend, be careful of the wrong one. as we domesticate the good earth with all her creatures, so too will apollo domesticate mankind.

iAM convinced that the human body is not compatible with consuming flesh. we lose the riches of the soul, as we consume that which has a soul. we will be deceived in our perception of wealth when we crucify nature. the dollar is a curse unto man for not respecting nature. everyday, every act betrays the ill-concealed deity. we believe in ourselves, divine postman, as we do not believe in others.

we permit all things to ourselves, and that which we call fear in others is experiment for us. life is nothing but an untried experiment. there is always a better way of doing things which conforms to the laws of nature. one generation abandons the enterprises of another like stranded vessels. without action there is no power. all that ends in words is meaningless.

divine postman: a man’s capacities have never been measured; nor are we to judge of what he can do by any precedents, so little has been tried. whatever have been thy failures hitherto, be not afflicted, for who shall assign to you, shelley, what you have left undone. age is no better, hardly so well, qualified for an instructor as youth, for it has not profited so much as it has lost.

practically, the old have no very important advice to give the young, their own experience has been so partial. their lives have been such miserable failures, my friend, they live in the confines of fear and die in scarcity. there is no need to be rushing for offices, and desiring to have families, and households. all men have a calling in their character, shelley, and must be held amenable to reason for the choice of their lifestyle.

let us draw a lesson from the planting of our vegetables. the soil must first be prepared before planting, all we need to do is keep on tilling it, that it will absorb the rain, and be loose in composition in order for the breath of hera to breathe life into it. once it is ready and invigorates the sense of smell, after the rain has poured life into it, we dig and plant. this is all the labor that nature requires from a man, shelley.

after planting he will do only three things,- to till, to water, and to wait. nature will do the rest. thus because the poet is patiently watching his vegetables as they grow, the merchants, the lawyers, and the professors envy his success. nature will make fools out of the mob as they question the methods of the poet’s great harvest. his wisdom is the source of his wealth. oh! how great is the faith of a mustard seed,- so much abundance it will yield.

shelley: the merchants run around in offices but fail to grow their own food. the lawyers drive cars but cannot milk cows. and the professors who are esteemed for their full memory will eat meat but cannot grow and slaughter their own chickens. they say that by electromagnetism, divine postman, your salad shall be grown from the seed whilst your fowl is roasting for dinner.

it is a symbol of our modern aims and endeavors, of our condensation and acceleration of objects, but nothing is gained. nature cannot be cheated, my friend, every new invention or mode of life brings with it the old checks. man’s life is but seventy salads long, grow they swift or grow they slow. nature has made life to be astoundingly simple, that we will have abundant leisure to contemplate the mind of athena.

it is good to deal with the big questions in life, and not die in ignorance but gain enlightenment. the egyptians were concerned with the glory of the heavenly bodies and left the great monument as a sign to future generations. they watched the nile in wonder, divine postman, as it cultivated the land. we must abide in the simple and noble regions of our life and we will create anew the foreworld.

we know that death awaits us but we never confront it, we distract ourselves from the reality that soon we will be gone. the purpose of life is to learn through experience, and give an account to future generations of the spirit of the age. how will history remember us, divine postman, when we do not live by the pen?

divine postman: our ignorance will not only destroy our own soul, but it will confine the future generations to unceasing torments. the laws of the city are in conspiracy with the laws of nature. whoever is in denial of the eternal providence of nature will suffer great torments that have no end. there is only one law in nature that is the cause of all that we see,- what lives in the heart will manifest in the hands. we hold what we love.

i find no sensibility in these crowded cities, shelley; they breed covetousness, greed, envy, and ultimately in the end death. a father will kill a son who attains greater riches than him. cruelty has a human heart, and jealousy a human face; terror the human form divine, and secresy the human dress. i find enduring wealth in the silent woods and the wise mountains.

i walk the hills to connect with the roots of my being and i heal within. there is a home for all those who have been rejected by the world. the omnipotent force of love exercises dominion over all things. she will uproot and tear down, and raise the faithful heart. the stars above will fulfill all justice on the earth. the life in the body, my friend, is the life in the soul.

the seasons will complete the great work they started in us. the greatest thing a man can do in his life is to plant a tree. it grows in beauty with time, and will give shelter to many. it will shed healing to the nations, shelley, and awaken mankind to the infinite wealth in the human soul. every ship is a romantic object, except that we sail in. embark, and the romance quits our vessel and hangs on every other sail on the horizon.

shelley: our life looks trivial and we shun to record it. all foolishness suffers the burden of dissatisfaction with itself. men seem to have learned of the horizon the art of perpetual retreating and reference. ‘yonder uplands are rich pasturage, and my neighbour has fertile meadow, but my field,’ says the quarelous farmer, ‘only holds the world together.’

everyone is discontent with their lot. how come, divine postman, no one is ever content with the lot they chose or the one fate threw in their way? but praise those who pursue some alternative track. ‘o fortunate blogger!’ the schoolboy cries, jealous of his freedom and leisure, but never considerate of the price that was paid.

the great things in life come at a great cost, my friend, it is foolish to envy another’s lot. all things in nature are sold and not given. once the price has been paid i, archangels will hold our hand and reveal to us the splendor of the human soul. beauty waits for our arrival. every revelation of the soul is arranged for truth and benefit. oh! how soothing is the beautiful rain, divine postman, as it calms the heart and says, “yes, your fortune has come!”

divine postman: how great when in an eye thou art alive with fate. every roof is agreeable to the eye until it is lifted; then we find tragedy and moaning women and hard-eyed husbands, and deluges of lethe and the men ask, ‘what is the news?’ as if the old were so bad.

’tis the trick of nature thus to degrade today; a good deal of buzz, and somewhere a result magically slipped in. apollo will be silent for a while, and in a great moment thunder before our eyes. so much of our time is preparation, shelley.

so much is routine, so much retrospect, that the pith of each man’s genius contracts itself to a very few hours. we lose the glory in the human soul as we conform to the customs and rituals of society. all men desperately hold onto this life and fear death, thus they accumulate all things material and lose their souls.

the flesh has limits; the soul forever endures. it has no beginning and it has no ending, but circular power always returning into itself. what moved our grandparents, my friend, from the happy realms of light where they were clothed with transcendent brightness? they became discontent with simplicity, shelley, and the further they strayed from nature, the more distant apollo became.

there is no abundant rain in the mountains of matatiele, hecate withholds her great gifts and hands out her wrath because of man’s wickedness. they look to the speech and fair words of a flatterer, paying no regard to any practical result. our good earth is dieing, my friend, because the glory in man is dieing. he severes the trees for the domestication of cattle, and loses centuries of his history.

shelley: but no! divine postman, hecate remembers the faithful who believe in the good earth, and opens the vaults in which the abundant rain is stored. boreas will breathe mightily, the clouds will gather, the heaven will thunder, and the rain will fall. the earth will be renewed, at the turn of a new season. therefore do not worry, my friend, all that you fasted for you will receive, the great star will sustain thee.

inevitably the universe will wear our colour, and every object fall successively into the subject itself. the subject exists, the subject enlarges; all things sooner or later fall into place, divine postman. things refuse to be mismanaged long. as iAM, so i see; use what language we will, we can never say anything but what we are; homer, hesiod, solon, thales, aristotle are the mind’s ministers.

the time that the wise man has on this earth is limited, he will learn, he will love and he will grow; never settling for too long in one place, but moving with the grace of the seasons. nature creates all things for man’s enjoyment, but he rejects the sublime law of enjoyment and chooses to possess things. the great gift of life unto man is to learn,- in all our journeys, divine postman, we are to grow in wisdom.

it is folly to possess anything; all that we acquire becomes a great burden as the years roll. all our time is wasted in maintaining possessions. among our customary actions not one in a thousand concerns ourselves,- our labors are fruitless. the more you own, my friend, the more you will lose. happy is the simple mind that exercises power over its alotted time. it will create a kingdom that time will never destroy, as it follows the sun and moon.

divine postman: i have travelled a good deal in my twenty six years and everywhere, in shops, and offices, in restaurants, and homes, in fields and streets, the inhabitants have appeared to me to be doing penance in a thousand remarkable ways. the twelve labors of hercules were trifling in comparison with those which my fellow men have undertaken; for they were only twelve, shelley, and had an end!

but i could never see that these men and women and children slewed or captured any monster or finished any labor. they are always rushing without thinking, and repeating the same routine for over thirty years. they have no friend iolaus to burn with a hot iron the root of the hydra’s head, but as soon as one head is crushed, two spring up.

i have observed, shelley, that man does not understand the cause of fortune,- he fears the truth, and does not investigate why he is getting the results that he is getting. fortune will not be moved in her eternal law- walk by faith and not by sight! we cannot be great when we forsake our history. our houses would be better if they had no roof on, we would at once study the heavens, and allow the rain, and the winds to change us.

when we let nature in she sustains what truly lives. nature works and will not fail, while these tools we build fail us everyday. man assumes that he knows better than nature with all his machines and telescreens. he does not obey the song of the winds, the breath of the sea, the light in the fire or the heart beat in the soil. he does not fix his gaze on the heavenly bodies, shelley, to wait for a sign from apollo.

but pride would consume his heart and cast him out from those divine fields with evergreen trees and blooming flowers. with his happiness lost, shelley, lasting pain torments him, and there is only desolation before his eyes. in all his days of ignorance he will live in a dungeon horrible on all sides round with no light but rather darkness visible. the great crime in history is man’s pride.

only that mankind admits to his great fault of rebelling against nature, he will be delivered from his bondage. and renew his vows to his soul’s bride. a greater world awaits the patient who will obey the commands of time. all our troubles stem from a lack of patience. we increase our suffering with our miserable interferences. a believing love will relieve us of a vast load of care. the perfect silence will guide us, shelley, when we are prepared to listen.

shelley: the partial action of each strong mind in one direction is a telescope for the objects on which it is pointed. but every other part of knowledge is to be pushed to the same extravagance, ere the soul attains her due sphericity. do you see that kitten, divine postman, chasing so prettily her own tail? if you could look with her own eyes you might see her surrounded with hundreds of figures.

performing complex dramas, with tragic and comic issues, long conversations, many characters, many ups and downs of fate, and meantime it is only puss and her tail. how long, my friend, before our masquerade will end its noise of tambourines, laughter, and shouting, and we shall find it was a solitary performance. a subject and an object,- it takes so much to make the galvanic circuit complete, but magnitude adds nothing.

what imports it whether it is pythagoras and numbers, thales and water, the poet and his bicycle, or puss with her tail? poverty begins in the mind. those who run to offices every morning descend deeper and deeper into her dreaded trenches. they are deceived into thinking, that change can come externally without exploring the running roots within. i will not be fooled by appearances, divine postman.

upon rejecting the noise in the world sights of woe will no longer be. i will return to my divine state, my friend, and find, styx dwelling inside me in eternal peace, joy, and freedom. on this hope of man returning to his divine roots, hera, holds back the overflowing rivers from rushing across the open plains. and at the same time sweeping away orchards, flocks, houses, and human beings with their sacred temples.

divine postman: the cornfields will not be flattened by brightening zephyrus. the farmer’s crops, the object of his hope, will not be ruined by boreas, who is headlong in his course. and thus his long year’s labor will yield a great harvest because of the nature’ patient love. the mass of men are poor, shelley, because they are blown and tossed about on the wave of popular opinion.

they live according to another’s expectation and never search for their natural genius. if you shape your life according to nature you will never be poor,- when we are one with nature we can never beg but will grow in pure riches. if you shape your life according to people’s opinions, shelley, you will never be rich. nature’s demands are small, while those of opinion are limitless. when a person is following a track designed by nature it will end somewhere.

but with wandering according to society’s opinion, there is no end. all the toys and foods of society will only induce an appetite for even bigger things. so simple has nature ordained for things to be. apply yourself to one thing, my friend, namely writing; seek one sole wisdom; choose one sole good. before you explore the world, shelley, first explore the heaven within. so easy is the victory of nature. when the fruit is ripe, it falls.

when the fruit is despatched, the leaf falls. the destiny of the rose, the cabbage, and the man thinking is a falling forward. we are most beautiful in our simple, spontaneous action. speech is the mirror of action, the most virtuous is the greatest. for he will pursue the most worthy aims. he learns the art of obedience, that he may command. the life of truth, shelley, is cold and so far mournful.

but it is not the slave of tears, contritions, and pertubations. it does not attempt another’s work, nor adopt another’s facts. it is a main lesson of wisdom to know your own from another’s. i have learned, shelley, that i cannot dispose of other people’s facts; but i possess such a key to my own as persuades me, against all their denials, that they also have a key to theirs.

shelley: a sympathetic person is placed in the dilemma of a swimmer among drowning men, who all catch at him, and if he give so much as a leg or a finger they will drown him. he is prepared to sacrifice his life for them, but there is a grave mischief, divine postman; they wish to be saved from the mischief of their vices, but not from their vices.

charity would be wasted on this poor waiting on the symptoms. the law of nature stipulates that there can be no change on the outside when pruning has not taken place in the soul. a wise and hardy physician would say, ‘come out of that,’ as the first condition of advice. vice may be had in abundance without trouble, the way is smooth and her dwelling place near, but death she will bring.

before virtue, the gods have set toil and a tedious and uphill road, but eternal glory awaits the faithful on the mountaintop. a world never seen before we will discover, my friend. each man is his own liberator; none but you alone can free your mind. i learn everyday that death is life’s single best invention. it clears away the old, to make room for the new. and right now, divine postman, the new is you. there is a purpose that you are on this earth to serve.

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divine postman: men cannot be made more righteous by putting money into their purses. men harbour their righteousness in their souls thoreau, and not in their purses. it is only through virtue alone that we can be superior.

as much virtue as there is, so much appears; as much goodness as there is, so much reverence it commands. all the fools respect virtue. the high, the generous, the self-devoted sect who are their own slave drivers will always instruct and command mankind.

never was a sincere word utterly lost. never a magnanimity fell to the ground, but there is some heart to greet and accept it unexpectedly. oh! how men and women have been deceived my friend, they perceive life to be all that they see; they have not faith in the glory of the human soul.

thoreau: all foolishness suffers the burden of dissatisfaction with itself. whoever fails to find meaning in the presence of his soul will fail to find it anywhere else. it is obedience to the divine motives of hera that will make us gods. there is nothing that will ever surpass the glory of the human soul.

all the noise will never silence the eternal one within. truth is the perfect silence that endures from the beginning of time, and will bring us out safe at last. a man passes for that he is worth. what he is engraves itself on his face, on his form, on his fortunes, in letters of light. concealment avails him nothing divine postman, boasting nothing.

there is confession in the glances of our eyes, in our smiles, in salutations, and the grasp of hands. his folly debauds him, mars all his good impressions. men know not why they cannot trust him, but they cannot trust him. his vice glasses his eye, cuts lines of mean expression in his cheeks, pinches the nose, sets the mark of the beast on the back of the head, and writes oh fool! fool! on the forehead of a father.

divine postman: every excess causes a defect, every defect creates an excess; every sweet hath its sour, every evil its good. men and women seek to be great thoreau, they would have fame, fortune, families, and homes, they think that to be great is to possess one side of nature, the sweet without the other side, the bitter.

they see the sensual allurement of an object but not the sensual hurt. they see the mermaid’s 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. “what will you have?” quoth apollo; “pay for it and take it!”

it would seem that there is 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 thoreau, this kick of the gun, certifying that the law is fatal; that in nature nothing can be given, all things are sold. the joy of the vessel is in proportion to the sorrows endured.

thoreau: the laws of nature were ordained before man was moulded into form. he is sourced from the earth and the heavens; he can only prosper when he obeys the seasons. wisdom is a manifestation of the laws of nature in the understanding mind.

she whispers softly like a piano in the dark calling us to her illustrious abode.
we can only be great in her presence. let all men and women divine postman solve the great sphinx, that they will walk with certainty, and inherit the great star.

for the sun and moon make known the end before the beginning demanding absolute faith. nature’s design my friend will be fulfiled, none will thwart the will of fortune. as the seasons complete their course they will yield abundance to the rooted tree. if you would not be known to do anything divine postman, never do it.

a man may play the fool in the drifts of a desert, but every grain of sand shall seem to see. he may be a solitary eater, but he cannot keep his foolish counsel. a broken heart, a confused look, cruel acts, and the want of due knowledge,- all blab. the soul speaks in silence my friend, so that nothing can be concealed to the discerning heart.

divine postman: oh! such mysteries pallas athena confounds us with, high mindedness a jealousy for good, a loving kindness for the great man’s fame, dwells here and there with people of no name. in noisome alley thoreau, and in pathless wood, and where we think the truth least understood. we wait that our glory will abound, justice will compensate every loss.

let us learn what faith will do my friend, the instinct which leads every generous soul to impose on itself tasks of a noble asceticism and vicarious virtue, are the tremblings of the balance of justice through the heart and mind of man. persons and events may stand for a while between you and justice but it is only a postponement; benefit is the end of nature.

nature will sustain all that is good. when we discover a truth, we transcend from a state of ignorance to that of awareness. the slower the body moves in time, the faster the spirit travels through space. the snail moves fastest in space than all men. it is the god of patience and commands that all men make a sacrifice to her.

all the foolish endeavors of the city dwellers will never move the patience of the seasons. everything will be fulfiled according to the movement of the star. if we consider what happens in conversation thoreau, in reveries, in remorse, in times of passion, in surprises.

in the instructions of dreams, wherein often we see ourselves in masquerade,- the droll disguises only and enhancing a real element and forcing it on our distinct notice,- we shall catch many hints that will broaden and lighten into knowledge the secret of nature. all goes to show my friend, that the soul in man is not an organ, but animates and exercises all the organs.

the soul 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 a light; is not the intellect or will, but the master of the intellect and the will. it is the background of our being in which they lie,- an immensity not possessed, thoreau, and which cannot be possessed.

thoreau: to attain knowledge is to receive enlightenment. upon receiving divine knowledge, we need to be patient as it will yield abundant fruit in due time. oh! such eternal glory lies in the lap of time divine postman. let us not taint the great work that hera has performed within, but move with the loving wave of nature contenting ourselves with obedience.

all that a man truly has on this earth divine postman is his time; and the power to choose grants him the freedom to decide what to do with it. we need to set our affections on some great man and keep him constantly before our eyes, so that we may live as if he were watching us and do everything as if he saw what we were doing.

in like manner the effect of every action is measured by the depth of the sentiment from which it proceeds. the great man knew not that he was great, divine postman, it took a century or two for that fact to appear. what he did, he did because he must; it was the most natural thing in the world, and grew out of the circumstances of the moment.

but now, everything he did, even to the lifting of his hand or the drinking of water, looks large, all-related, and is called an institution. his thought is perverted by professors in universities, as it is split apart from the source it originated from. we have sold our souls to these machines my friend, and move without thinking.

it is no longer the glory in man that we admire divine postman, rather it is the buildings and machines that stem from his thought. thus we bow down before all things that cripple mankind and neglect the glory of the human mind and body.

it is only the soul that is perfect; it is always in motion either growing or dieing, creating the beauty in nature or destroying it through consumption. the soul will take the shape of the agents heart. it is a perfect star that will only fit in the hand of nature. it cannot be sustained on food, or the dollar, but remembers its old home where it was rooted in faith.

divine postman: we all have a spiritual guide that will lead us to our prize. the whole course of things, thoreau, 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.

we can only immerse ourselves in the wisdom of athena by always willing to be little. why need you choose so painfully your place and occupation, thoreau, and associates and modes of action and of entertainment? certainly there is a possible right for you that precludes the need of balance and wilful election.

for you, my friend, there is a reality, a fit place and congenial duties. place yourself in the middle of the stream of power and form which animates all whom it floats, and you are without effort impelled to truth, to right and a perfect contentment. then you put all critics in the wrong.

then you are the world, the measure of justice, of truth, of beauty. life only avails, not the having lived. power ceases in the instant of repose. it resides in the moment of transition from a past to a new state, in the shooting of a star, in the darting to an aim, in the leap of a dear. this one fact the world hates my friend; that the soul becomes.

for that forever degrades the past, turns all riches to poverty, all reputation to a shame. the soul knows only the glory of that great day when the world was darkness and the light illumined the whole chaos, and mind set all things in order.

if we will not be mar-plots, thoreau, with our miserable interferences, the gardening, the men, the women, the children, the animals, the letters, the arts, the numbers, the geometry would go on far better than now.

and the heaven predicted from the beginning of the world, and still predicted from the bottom of the heart, would organize itself as do now, the marigold, the rose, the cabbage and the moon and sun.

i say, do not choose your place and occupation, your associates and modes of action and of entertainment; but that is a figure of speech, my friend, by which i would distinguish what is commonly called choice among men, and which is a partial act, the choice of the hands, of the eyes, of the appetites, and not a whole act of the man.

but that which i call right or goodness, is the choice of my constitution; and that which i call heaven, and inwardly aspire after, is the state or circumstance desirable to my constitution; and the action which i in all my years tend to do, is the work for my faculties. fortune is in our hands, thoreau, joy is in our feet, love beats in our heart, and victory is in our minds; let us not waste time.

thoreau: we must hold a man amenable to reason divine postman for the choice of his daily craft or profession. let us question him regarding the meaning of his daily labor. does it renew his soul, or destroy it; is he trapped in a routine, or is he free?

and, is he giving to mankind and the good earth, or merely taking and never planting anything? it is not an excuse any longer for his deeds that they are the custom of his trade. what business has he with an evil trade; has he not a calling in his character divine postman, and a duty to lay down his life for the future generations?

we are to pay every just demand on our time, our talents, and our hearts. human labor, through all its forms, from the planting of vegetables to the construction of an epic, is one immense illustration of the perfect compensation of the universe.

the perfect balance of give and take and the doctrine that everything has its price,- and if that price is not paid in full, not that thing but something else is obtained, and that it is impossible to get anything without its price,- is the absolute truth that defines the daily habits of mankind.

the dollar will never solve ignorance. the real price of labor, divine postman, is knowledge and virtue, whereof wealth and wisdom are signs. and these ends of labor cannot be answered by the shortcuts that men take, namely, rushing for barren offices and selling their souls for material riches.

knowledge is given to us, that we may know we are very great. let us not sell ourselves cheaply, divine postman, but remain patient in our writing and reading. the wise moon will bring a great change. she knows what was, what is, and what will be. she will complete her perfect justice, that pandora scarred.

the life of money-making is contrary to nature, we can only be truly rich through wisdom alone. the true ends of labor which are wealth and wisdom, can only be answered, by real exertions of both body and mind, and in obedience to pure motives. nature does not follow man, divine postman; it is for mankind to obey her commands and tread in victory all his days under the sun.

divine postman: the hero fears not that if he withhold the avowal of a just and brave act it will go unwitnessed and unloved. one knows it,- himself,- and is pledged by it to sweetness of peace and to nobleness of aim which will prove in the end a better proclamation of it than the relating of the incident. every act rewards itself,- benefit is the end of nature.

virtue, thoreau, is the adherence in action to the nature of things, and the nature of things makes it prevalent. it consists in a perpetual substitution of being for seeming, and with sublime propriety hera is described as saying, she is. he who does not act on his thought, will never gain anything.

knowledge without action is meaningless. so much time is wasted in these useless colleges. the art of wisdom thoreau, is to think well and to act well. it is only when we choose to be brave that we receive the glory that awaits us. the lesson which this truth conveys is, be, and not seem.

these schools are failing our children, they learn to speak well and never do well; thus they lose the great riches in time, always postponing and never live in the present hour. they reject their lives, as parents dump them in the refuse of schooling. he who is incharge of his own learning, thoreau, will run away with all riches.

how long will man stoop low to institutions; is it all because they promise the dollar? it is a shame what humanity has come to be; we trust in anything but ourselves thoreau; we beg a cup of water of the urns of other men, and do not put ourselves in communication with the internal ocean. we fear to be alone, and never search for truth. thus fortune is never gained.

thoreau: let us aqueisce divine postman. let us take our bloated nothingness out of the path of the divine circuits. let us unlearn all that we were taught by mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters, friends, and teachers. let us lie low in apollo’s power and learn that truth alone makes rich and great. justice, even if slow, is certain.

it is only what is natural that will endure beyond time. all the noise in this age will disappear as quickly as it sprouted. it is the roots of love that will anchor great works of art to the circuit of time. nature will sustain the living word. there can be no shortcuts in nature.

if you visit your friend, divine postman, why need you apologize for not having visited him, and waste his time and deface your own act? visit him now! let him feel that the highest love has come to see him, in thee its lowest organ.

or, why need you torment yourself and befriend by secret self-reproaches that you have not assisted him or complimented him with gifts and salutations heretofore? let your presence be a gift and a benediction divine postman. shine with real light and not with the borrowed reflection of the dollar.

divine postman: common men are apologies for divine men; they bow the head to a dead deity, they apologize and excuse themselves with prolix reasons, they are weak and not upright, and accumulate appearances because the substance is not. they do not respect the grace of time, but always rush and never arrive.

thus hera turns a deaf ear to their prayers, and gives them over to their ignorance. all the sorrow that we are inflicted with is purposed to raise us, that we may be rooted in the presence of athena. for obedience is the greatest power. where is the wise youth, my friend? i see young men and young women who owe us a new world, so readily and lavishly they promise.

but they never acquit the debt thoreau! they die young and dodge the account; or if they live, they lose themselves in the crowd. a child can only feel safe in the presence of a loving mother. everyday that the sun rises is an opportunity to start again anew,- to grow in our obedience to the divine will of patience.

we are full of superstitions of sense, thoreau, the worship of magnitude. all our perceptions derive from our fears, we tiptoe through life and never act with certainty, we think too much and love too little. oh! let your glory in man be ridiculous hecate,- one with the revolution of the gleaming stars.

styx the eldest daughter of back-flowing ocean was joined to pallas and bare, zelus (emulation) and trim-ankled nike (victory) in the house. also she brought forth cratos (strength) and bia (force) wonderful children. there is something infinitely greater beyond these walls and machines, which only a few will find. i will not conceal it, thoreau, but will allow it to flow and penetrate the heart of man.

it will shed healing to the nations as i embody it with purity. the individual soul always mingles with the universal soul. the soul never answers by words, but by the thing itself that is inquired after. the soul is the perceiver and revealer of truth my friend. the soul can never accept limits, it looketh steadily forwards, creating a world before her, leaving ruins behind her.

she has no dates, nor rites, nor specialities, nor persons, nor men. the soul knows only the soul. the web of events is the flowing robe in which she is clothed. after its own law, thoreau, and not by arithmetic, is the rate of its progress to be computed. it has no beginning and it has no ending, she lives in blest eternity with fortunes beyond comprehension.

it is the star that beacons in the abode where the eternal are. revelation is the disclosure of the soul. the popular notion of a revelation is that it is a telling of fortunes, which can only be inherited through faith alone. we call the poet inactive, thoreau, because he is not a president, a merchant, or a lawyer.

thoreau: we adore an institution and do not see that it is founded on a thought which we have. but real action is in silent moments. the ignorant who criticize the divine labor of the poet fail to pick up the pen and express the breathings of the soul.

the poet is the greatest among all men divine postman, for he forever wrestles with the hardest ocuppation in the universe: to know thyself. the ignorant mob will worship their gods because of what they receive; their prayers aim at petty ends quite aside from the universal good; thus hera will look down and turn her back.

modern christianity is nothing short of the affirming of idolatry. it is a material god that they worship, divine postman, who gives them pieces that they will desperately hold onto their whole lives.
they run to a building and never look within, and lose eternal riches.

the epochs of our life are not in the visible facts of our choice of a calling, our marriage, our acquisition of an office and the like, but in a silent thought; by the way-side as we walk; in a thought which revises our entire manner of life and says,- ‘thus hast thou done, but it were better thus.’ and all our after years, like menials, serve and wait on this, and according to their ability execute its will.

divine postman: this revisal or correction, thoreau, is a constant force, which, as a tendency, reaches through our lifetime. the object of the man, the aim of these moments, is to make daylight shine through him, to suffer the law to traverse his whole being without obstruction.

so that on what point soever of his doing your eye falls on him, it shall report truly of his character. whether it be his diet, his companions, his children, his labor, his mirth, his belief, his questions. but now he is not homogeneous thoreau, but heterogeneous, and the ray does not traverse.

there are no thorough lights, but the eye of the beholder is puzzled, detecting many unlike tendencies and a life not yet at one. i find it astoundingly beautiful my friend how the mighty hand of time will subdue us to be criticized and ridiculed for our radical beliefs; and upon the change of the seasons will raise us in eternal glory.

all those who looked down upon us now yearn to be in our presence. we will not show them the conditional love that they showed us, thoreau. instead we will stretch out our hand in grace, and those who burn with a desire to do good, will fight for this great love. justice will be done; the truth is the eternal sea that sustains all things.

it is for us to remain patient and await our great victory. believe in the good, my friend, and grow not in apathy but in enduring love. let the fools boast in their idols, keep thy divine state and come out not into their confusion. the sovereign seasons will remember all our journeys thoreau, and clothe us in eternal splendor.

thoreau: oh! so good it feels to be justified in our faith, the victory of nature is as sweet and serene as the morning star. this voice will be heard, my friend, and be an echo unto eternity setting the captives free. it is fixed with the concave sphere of the heavens.

it is not desirable to dig up treasure divine postman, or to weep in vain for all that we have lost; fear has no room in love. all the good of nature is the soul’s, and may be had if paid for in nature’s lawful coin, that is, by labor which the heart and head allow. i believe in beauty my friend.

i was once deceived, divine postman, believing that fortune is found in city streets, in gold mines, and in tall buildings. now i know, that the abundant love which lives in my soul is more rich than all the nations in the earth. the cattle on a thousand hills can never compare with the glory within. iAM the conquering lion; all good follows me. oh! let love carry you.

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divine postman: show me something hecate, not the wicked dollar; but that which is beyond the stars. i lay down my life here. love and you shall be loved xenophon. all love is mathematically just, as much as the two sides of an algebraic expression.

the good man has absolute good in him, which like fire turns everything to its own nature, so that you cannot do him any harm. the mind will endure when the body is water. disasters of all kinds as sickness, death, poverty, prove benefactors. winds blow and waters roll, strength to the brave, and power and deity, yet in themselves are nothing.

the good are befriended even by weakness and defect. as no man had ever a point of pride xenophon that was not injurious to him, so no man had ever a defect that was not somewhere made useful to him. the stag in the fable admired his horns and blamed his feet, but when the hunter came, his feet saved him, and when caught in the thicket his horns destroyed him.

xenophon: let us give our whole life to the pursuit of wisdom divine postman. and be certain that time will justify all our sacrifices. there is joy for the faithful in the sun and moon. patience will serve to humble us and prepare our minds to handle the glory that will come.

every man and woman divine postman needs to thank his faults. as no man thoroughly understands a truth until he has contended against it, so no man has a thorough acquaintance with the hindrances or talents of men until he has suffered from the one and seen the truimph of the other over his own want of the same.

i once foolishly thought divine postman that having a home, a family, and an occupation that gave you the dollar to maintain these things was all that life offered. i never looked beyond the common endeavors of the rushing mob. it took death to awaken me and an ocean of life unfolded before my eyes.

i started to question things. i began at the roots with the food that we eat, and moved toward our education system, as i failed to understand why there are institutions of learning when at the click of a button we can access whatever branch of knowledge we desire to learn. to my surprise i discovered that all knowledge is in the human soul, and it is revealed to us through suffering.

thereafter i questioned households, and wondered why mothers, fathers, sons, and daughters care only for their own kind; and i have come to learn that a family is not sustainable, it is an incredibly selfish institution. it takes from the fruitful earth and chooses to be ignorant of the destruction caused by their consumption patterns.

too many trees have been crucified to make room for these families, and too much waste is produced in these households. every access causes a defect, and every defect creates an excess. when we burn these homes, and forsake all these families, and flee from all institutions we gain the riches of the human soul. all the good in nature is the soul’s.

with all the knowledge that i gained in my journeys, i decided to act upon it, and believed in the emphasis of my soul. the soul’s emphasis is always right divine postman; what your heart thinks great is great. take the place and attitude which belong to you and all men aqueisce.

divine postman: the soul is the perceiver and revealer of truth. we know truth when we see it, xenophon, let skeptic and scoffer say what they choose. foolish people ask you, when you have spoken what they do not wish to hear, ‘how do you know it is truth and not an error of your own?’

we know truth when we see it, from opinion my friend, as we know when we are awake that we are awake. truth is the break of dawn that lights up all things in the heart, and opens a door that was once closed before. a thrill passes through a man at the reception of a new truth. it is no proof of a man’s understanding to be able to confirm whatever he pleases.

but to be able to discern that what is true is true, and that what is false is false,- this is the mark and character of intelligence. many words do not declare an understanding heart; seek one sole wisdom xenophon, choose one sole good,- for thou wilt check the tongues of chatterers prating without end.

bring these words to life hera, let this art be a light unto the whole world. the living word is the breath that breathes in the thirsty soul. let every young man and young woman suffer for the riches of the human soul.

xenophon: and instead of becoming a wild and impetuous youth they will be decorous and discreet. exhibiting a gentle mind, a calm spirit, and a rigid simplicity. our strength divine postman grows out of our weakness. the indignation which arms itself with secret forces does not awaken until we are pricked and stung and sorely assailed.

a great man is always willing to be little. by lowly listening he will hear the right word. whilst the self-indulgent sit on their cushions of advantages they go to sleep my friend. mankind is dieing in these households divine postman,- they recline on costly couches at costly tables, delivering themselves into the hands of servants and cooks to be fattened in the dark, like voracious animals.

and ruining not only their characters but also their health. whoever fails to find their purpose will die in spiritual famine. when we are pushed, tormented, traumatized, we have a chance to learn something. when the world beats us down we are put on our wits my friend and on our manhood.

but oh! how glorious is pallas athena divine postman when she fills us with her wisdom; we gain facts and learn our ignorance. we are cured of the insanity of conceit, and earn moderation and real skill, learning to adapt to every environment that apollo has led us in.

divine postman: every trembling storm xenophon will pass, nothing will last forever. it is your desire to grow, which will determine the value of the experience. the wise man throws himself on the side of his assailants, it is more his interest than it is theirs to find his weak point. the wound cicatrizes and falls off from him like a dead skin.

and when they would truimph, lo! he has passed on invulnerable. the wise man will prepare the soil before the coming of the rain, as noah built his ark years before the great waters consumed the earth. the vessel must be pure to handle the divine riches of hecate. faith believes the revelations of the soul, and rejects the limitless opinions of man.

from within or from behind xenophon, a light shines through us upon things and makes us aware that we are nothing, but the light is all. a man is the facade of a temple wherein all wisdom and all good abide. what we commonly call man, the eating, drinking, cycling, reading man, does not, as we know him, represent himself, but misrepresents himself.

him we do not respect xenophon, but the soul, whose organ he is. would he let it appear through his action would make our knees bend. when it breathes through his intellect my friend, it is genius; when it breathes through his will, it is virtue; when it flows through his affection, it is love. and the blindness of the intellect begins when it would be something of itself, as it reasons from the seen to the unseen.

xenophon: the weakness of the will divine postman begins when the individual would be something of himself, as it surrenders to a journey whose end it will not know, but will receive guidance for. all reform my friend, aims in some one particular to let the soul have its way through us.

in other words, to engage us to obey, that nature may sustain our noble cause and give us the joy of heaven. i believe divine postman that nature is the truth; all life is found in her,- she is the source of all riches. but wherever i go i see a sword. there is a great conflict between nature and civilization. in all that mankind does he seeks to domesticate nature, and deny her the glory.

whoever eats animals will pay a dear price,- every creature has a soul and he who consumes the flesh of an animal will lose his soul. the dollar is deceptive divine postman, it does not account for the years that nature nurtures and raises her chickens. we suffer great burdens when we oppose nature. nature is the opposite of the soul answering to it part for part, one is seal and one is print.

nature and man proceed from one root, one is leaf and one is flower; relation, sympathy, stirring in every vein. what we take from her is what will reflect in our bodies. all that is required from me is to follow nature’s footsteps. she will never fail us with her enduring wisdom. nature is the bride of the soul.

divine postman: and when this spiritual light shall have revealed more earthly natures, when we have learned to worship the soul. and to see that the natural philosophy that now is, is only the first gropings of its gigantic hand, we shall look forward to an ever expanding knowledge xenophon as to a becoming creator. the beauty of nature is the beauty of my own mind.

its laws are the laws of my own mind. the law that the roses, the cabbages, and the marigolds obey, is the law that my mind and body obey. nature then becomes to me the measure of my own attainments. so much of nature i have explored, so much of my own mind i have searched. and, in fine, the ancient precept xenophon, “know thyself,” and the modern precept, “study nature,” become at last one maxim.

how immortal, how infinite, how silent is this truth in vegetables my friend. the human body is sourced from nature, in order for the veins in my body to move with vigor, i must eat the veins in the cabbage without boiling it. the heart-beat of the fruit orchard is the heart-beat in me. to live i must eat that which comes from the tree.

the patience by which the waters, the winds, the sun, and the moon grow the vegetables will be the patience in my heart. i grow in love, xenophon, when i eat that which is not defiled. it is the earth that raises us, nurtures us, and sustains us. the heaven above is the messenger to the earth below. my relationship with nature is a reflection of my intercourse with my soul. happy iAM to wander in her presence alone.

xenophon: nature has arranged all things for truth and benefit. in general, every evil to which we do not succumb divine postman is a benefactor. as the sandwich islander believes that the strength and valor of the enemy that he kills passes into himself, so we gain the strength of the temptation that we resist my friend.

truly it is wisdom that will anchor us to the roots of life. the same guards which protect us from disaster, defect, and enmity, defend us, if we will, from selfishness and fraud. bolts and bars are not the best of our institutions divine postman, nor is shrewdness in trade a mark of wisdom.

we can never truly know our greatness, until after a century or two, when death redeems every sacrifice that we made. to finish the moment divine postman, to find the journeys end in every step of the road, to live the greatest number of good hours my friend is wisdom. objections and criticism 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 divine postman preaches indifferency. do not craze yourself with thinking, but go about your business everywhere. 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. these words are my life. i gave it all up for the love of art divine postman. to fill the hour that is happiness; to fill the hour and leave no crevice for a repentance or an approval. we live amid surfaces my friend. 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, and that by skill of handling and treatment. he can take hold anywhere adapting to whatever environment phoebus apollo has placed him in. life itself is a mixture of power and form, and will not bear the least excess of either.

life cannot be postponed divine postman it is serious business, that calls for all our attention. i must find my purpose and live it. in proportion to the completeness of the distillation, so will the purity and imperishableness of the product be. or, i might say, it depends on how far the process had gone, of transmuting life into truth.

divine postman: i believe in the living earth xenophon, it calls all men to be patient and follow the heavens above. we are to earn our leisure my friend that we will be shaped by the changes of the sovereign seasons and impart the life that we find on our works of art. the change of season, is the change in the stars.

happiness must happen and the same holds for success. you have to let it happen xenophon by not caring about it. your time to be glorified will come, as there is only one life to live, so there is one great purpose that you need to fulfill. i want you to continue listening to what your conscience commands you to do and continue to carry it out to the best of your knowledge.

for thou, pallas athena’s darling, heed thy private dream, stay there in thy closet and toil. then you will live to see my friend, that in the long run- in the long run, i say!- success will follow you precisely because you had forgotten to think of it. thy sickness, they say, and thy puny habit require that thou do this or avoid that, but know that thy life is a flitting state, a tent for a night, and do thou, sick or well, finish that stint.

thou art sick, but shall not be worse, and the universe, which holds thee dear, shall be the better. for roses, marigolds, cabbages, beetroots, carrots, oak trees will grow under your feet because of your faith. what a man truly has in this life my friend is time. nature will give him in return what he has prayed for with his head, his hands, and his feet. all that we do will grow in accordance to the law of infinity. a tree is planted in faith.

xenophon: hope needs a humble hand; we make fools out of ourselves when we worry about tomorrow and squander the riches in our hands. with every word that i write, and every picture that i take, iAM creating the future. we seem not to understand time divine postman.

since our office is with moments, let us husband them. five minutes of today are worth as much to me as five minutes in the next millennium. let us be poised, and wise, and our own, today divine postman. let us treat the men and women well; treat them as if they were real; perhaps they are.

men and women live in their fancy, like drunkards whose hands are too soft and tremulous for divine labor. it is a tempest of fancies, 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 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 ox-eyed hera has delegated her whole pleasure for us. if these are mean and malignant divine postman, their contentment which is the last victory of justice, is a more satisfying echo to the soul than the voice of poets.

divine postman: we must set a limit to our desire for riches. time is infinitely rich and will bestow eternal riches upon us. however, we need to ask with wisdom xenophon, for all that we desire must not overwhelm us. we must dread a prosperity which only loads us with more.

i no longer wish to meet a good that i did not earn, for example to find a pot of buried gold, knowing that it brings with it new burdens. i do not wish more external goods xenophon,- neither possession, nor honors, nor wealth, nor powers, nor women. the gain is apparent, the burden is certain.

but there is no burden on the knowledge that the compensation exists for the patient labor of four winters. thus it is not desirable to dig up treasure or idolize another man’s prize. herein i rejoice with a serene eternal peace, as my voice is spread throughout the whole world.

to be truly rich is to be content in the presence of love. heaven and earth have allotted to each man and each woman their unique gifts; we can only receive them when athena has ripened our minds, and we become rooted in patience. of all the gods, only she knows the keys that ope the solid doors within whose vaults our glory sleeps.

how secret art thou pallas athena, who dwellest in the highest heavens in silence, oh! thou great goddess, sprinkling with an unwearied providence, certain penal blindnesses upon such as have unbridled desires. men suffer all their life long under the foolish superstition that they can be cheated.

but it is as impossible for a man to be cheated xenophon by anyone but himself, as for a thing to be and not to be at the same time. there is a third silent party to all our bargains my friend. the nature and soul of things takes on the guaranty of the fulfilment of every promise.

so that honest labor cannot come to loss. can we not have faith in the glory of styx my friend? with her eternal waters she implores us to believe in the glory within. nature only knows abundance xenophon, she moves with grace and thunders in a great moment to yield a divine harvest. oh! live in patience yea passionate youth, and all the stars will follow thee, as the heaped waves of the atlantic follow the moon.

xenophon: the history of persecutions is a history of endeavors to cheat nature, to make water run uphill, to twist a rope of sand, to kick a rock without getting bruised, to taunt a mountain lion and expect no response. it makes no difference divine postman whether the actors be many or one, a tyrant or a mob.

a mob is a society of bodies voluntarily bereaving themselves of reason and traversing its work. the mob is man voluntarily descending to the state of a wild beast. its fit hour of activity is night. its actions are insane like its whole constitution. it persecutes a principle; it would whip a right; it would tar and feather justice, by inflicting outrage and fire upon the persons and their property.

it resembles the prank of boys, who run with fire engines to put out the ruddy aurora streaming to the stars. the persecutors of truth, justice, and love destroy their own souls. the inviolate spirit turns their spite against the wrongdoers. the martyr cannot be dishonored divine postman. his allotted time for glory will come with the spring sun.

every lash inflicted is a tongue of fame; every prison, a more illustrious abode; every burned book or bicycle enlightens the whole world; every expunged or suppressed word reverberates through the earth from side to side. hours of sanity and consideration are always arriving to communities divine postman, as to individuals, when the truth is seen and the martyrs are justified.

time will right every wrong and wipe every tear, justice even if slow my friend is certain. what goes around, comes around; and what goes up must come down. every king knows it to be true, that every kingdom must one day come to an end.

heaven and earth is the arms that sustain us all our days under the moon and sun. oh! finally the tables are starting to turn, iAM talking about a revolution divine postman, in the mind and body of man. if not now my friend, then when?

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divine postman: why is there so much suffering on this earth euripides? whilst thus nature would be whole and refuses to be disparted, we seek to act partially, to sunder, to appropriate.

men seek to be great my friend; they would have children, households, possessions, wealth, power, and fame. they think that to be great is to possess one side of nature,- the sweet, without the other side, the bitter.

all things in nature come at a great cost. the appearance strikes the eye everywhere of an aimless society, of aimless nations. were the ends of nature so great and congent euripides as to exact this immense sacrifice of men?

euripides: they are like one who has interrupted the conversation of a great company of men, but now has forgotten what he went to say. the masses arrive with pains and sweat and fury nowhere; when all is done divine postman it is for nothing. they seek not wisdom but waste the precious rays of the sun by running around searching but never finding.

we do not study the laws of nature in patience. we live in an age of consumption and preservation. we fear to live,- people are moving divine postman without thinking. there is a promise that each man and woman is called to find. the glory of heaven and earth awaits the patient.

thus all concentrates: let us not rove divine postman; let us sit at home with the cause. we lie in the lap of immense intelligence, which makes us receivers of its truth and organs of its activity. here is the fountain of action and of thought. here are the lungs of that inspiration which giveth man wisdom. life is given to us that we may live divine postman.

divine postman: let us stun and astonish the intruding rabble of men and women, and books, and institutions, by a simple declaration of the divine fact, that there is a great responsible thinker and actor working wherever man works; that a true man euripides belongs to no other time or place, but is the centre of things.

where he is, there is nature. he measures you my friend and all men and all events. greatness appeals to the future. all the forgone days of virtue work their health into this. bid the invaders take the shoes from off their feet euripides, for the kingdom of hera is here within.

let fear not interfere with the optimism of nature. let the tree spread its roots my friend and grow abundant riches. nature will complete the great work that she started in us. our greatness is found in simplicity, and our docility to our own law, which will demonstrate the poverty of nature, and fortune beside our native riches.

let every young man rely on the emphasis of his soul, and pursue wisdom. all things in nature grow in obedience,- wait for your star euripides and believe in the promise of the moon. it is good to surrender. there is a love above that will sustain the faithful below. even to your grey hairs and weary bones apollo will shelter thee.

but now we are a mob my friend. we do not search for the deeper meaning in life. we are cowards who deceive ourselves with the ignorance of parents. none care to explore what lies beyond this concrete and all these walls. the days will reveal to us the purpose that the centuries planned. oh! let beauty rain on the earth hera.

euripides: man does not stand in awe of man, nor is his genius admonished to stay at home, to put itself in communication with the internal ocean, but it goes abroad to beg a cup of water of the urns of other men. we must always go alone divine postman. our powers are in proportion to our ambition.

the relations of the soul to the divine spirit are so pure that it is vain to seek to interpose helps. the soul knows only the soul divine postman; the web of events is the flowing robe in which she is clothed. the soul looketh steadily forwards, creating an enduring kingdom before her, leaving ruins behind her. she has no dates, no specialities, no occupations, nor rites, nor persons, nor men.

we live in succession, in divisions, in parts, in particles. meantime within man is the soul of the whole; the wise silence of athena; the universal beauty, to which every part and particle is equally related; the eternal one. and this deep power in which we exist divine postman and whose beatitude is all accessible to us, is not only self-sufficing and perfect in every hour.

but the act of seeing and the thing seen, the seer and the spectacle, the object and the subject, are one. we see the world piece by piece my friend, as the sun, the moon, the stars, the clouds, the rose, the trees, the river, the birds; but the whole, of which these are the shining parts, is the soul.

divine postman: people expect to receive the great things in life but they are not prepared to suffer. our success is in proportion to the price that we paid; greatest among all men euripides is he who has been inflicted with heavy sorrow. sorrow is good my friend,- it is the roots that bind a tree to the ground. humility always comes before honor.

the sustenance of nature’s laws, will envelop us in love and abundantly compensate every loss. i like the obedient sea at break of dawn euripides, better than any company. i feel new everyday as i bathe in the cold morning waters. i learn to be patient as i harmonize my thoughts with the sound of the waves, this is my eternal home.

so let us always meditate in solitude my friend, as we have forsaken the empty endeavors of men, and gained the riches of the great sea with the patience of the mountains. why should we assume the faults of our friend, or lover, or father, or mother, or cousin, or aunt, because they sit around our hearth or are said to have the same blood?

all men have my blood euripides, and i have all men’s; life flows through us all, as the waters of the sea that surround the earth; we are one race regardless of our birth-place, we are children of heaven and earth. not for that will i adopt the petulance or folly of what i once deemed to be family, even to the extent of being ashamed of it. oh! how liberating it is to move by faith,- i feel every burden stripped away.

euripides: our isolation must not be mechanical divine postman, but spiritual, that is, must be elevation. strength is taken out of strong things, and the good is sucked out of us, as we seek to act partially. there is only beauty in the whole. our knees will bend when a man reveals to us the glory of his soul.

there is meaning to the suffering we endure within,- at the start of each month the soul must be new. such also is the natural history of calamity. the changes which break up at short-intervals the prosperity of men are advertisements of a nature whose law is growth. every soul is by this nature quitting its whole system of things divine postman, its friends and home and laws and faith.

as the shell-fish crawls out of its beautiful but stony case, because it no longer admits of its growth, and slowly forms a new dwelling. the young genius with a burning desire to see the glory of heaven and earth will forsake his home, his friends, his hometown and mount his bicycle to create an everlasting kingdom within. curiosity will serve him well.

oh! how infinite is the beauty of the human soul divine postman, worthy it is of every loss my friend. in proportion to the vigor of the individual these revolutions are frequent, until in some happier mind they are incessant and all worldly relations hang very loosely about him, becoming as it were a transparent fluid membrane through which the living form is seen.

divine postman: and not as in most men, an indurated heterogeneous fabric of many dates and of no settled character, in which the man or woman is imprisoned. there is no life in these city dolls euripides. when we accept death and the change it will bring then there can be enlargement, and the man of today scarcely recognizes the man of yesterday.

and such should be the outward biography of man and woman in time, a putting off of dead circumstances day by day, as he renews his raiment day by day. but to the mob, in their lapsed estate, resting, not advancing, resisting, not co-operating with the divine expansion, this growth my friend comes by shocks.

all that a man truly has is his voice. it is what will remain when calamity thunders to remove all that hinders his growth, and the caged bird is set free to sing to the whole of humanity. the individual man is both man and animal. i can symbolize my thought by using the name of any creature, of any fact, because every creature euripides is man agent or patient.

he is to have faith in the sovereignty of the seasons, for change will come eventually. after winter must come spring; after spring must come summer; and summer will be lost in autumn. water refuses to be confined. the soul can never accept limits. the great man will manifest greatness; put him in a desert, or in the woods he will leave love.

all that i was searching for euripides was me. this life is a journey that i have been given, i have found and understood my purpose. now i give my life as a service unto humanity, and readily suffer all things on their behalf. mediocrity cannot be tolerated, there is only one choice for man and it is to believe in his greatness. we are not on this earth to conform.

euripides: we are to seek adventure and tell our story as we explore the knowledge in the earth with her celestial bodies. the dwelling place of man is land and sea, not walls and machines. at times the world seems to be in conspiracy to importune you with emphatic trifles.

friend, want, relative, client, sickness, fear, charity, religion all knock at once at thy closet door divine postman and say,- ‘come out unto us.’ but keep thy state my friend; keep not into their confusion. they know not your journey and the glory that awaits you. fortune will overwhelm you with the abundance that she will bring. iAM royalty in the presence of nature.

the power that men possess to annoy me, i give them by a weak curiosity. no man, no woman, no child can come near me divine postman but through my own act. life is too grand to be wasted living the fears and regrets of mothers and fathers. it is good to believe in the truth that throbs in your soul. what we love that we have, but by desire we bereave ourselves of the love.

if we cannot at once rise to the sanctities of obedience and faith, let us at least resist our temptations; let us enter into the state of war divine postman and wake courage and constancy. the stars remember all our sacrifices, and will guide our steps to the prize.

life is a journey my friend, birth is the beginning of man’s pilgrimage on earth, death is the end. let us search for the supreme cause of all, that we will live to tell of this unbounded substance. everyday we read a chapter of life that has been written by the sun, the wisdom we find will be the guide in our lives.

divine postman: this is to be done in our smooth times by telling the truth. check this lying hospitality and lying affection. live no longer to the expectation of these deceived and deceiving people euripides with whom we converse.

say to them,- ‘oh mother, oh father, oh aunt, oh cousin, oh lover, i have lived with you after appearances hitherto. henceforward iAM the truth’s. be it known unto you that henceforward i obey no law less than the eternal law. i will have no covenants but proximities.’

so radical is the truth euripides that it will breakthrough whatever barrier stands before it. the persistent waters will wash the mountain into the sea. patience is the key that will open every door. let us no longer break ourselves euripides to please another, but at all times be authentic.

let us not hide our tastes or aversions but express what truly lies in our soul. i will so trust that what is deep is holy, that i will do strongly before the sun and moon whatever inly rejoices me and the soul appoints. i will not hurt myself by hypocritical attentions euripides, but i will love the noble who treasure leisure.

if an individual is true, but not in the same truth with me, he must cleave to his companions; i will seek mine. i do this not selfishly but humbly and truly my friend. it is alike their interest, and mine, and all men’s, however long we have dwelt in lies, to live in truth. does this sound harsh euripides?

euripides: it does not sound harsh at all, for we will soon love what is dictated by our own nature, and if we follow the truth divine postman it will bring us out safe at last. our consumption habits are questionable. we are killing our bodies with the food that we eat.

nature will not be cheated my friend, the excessive consumption of animals will subject mothers, fathers, and children to unceasing toils. their bodies will never be at rest. we have fallen in love with the very things that destroy us divine postman. it is not good to eat meat; vegetables will not only nourish the body but will breathe life into the soul.

the sacrifices made by the pythagoreans in their worship of the gods involved no bloodshed; but were made with flour, corn, drink offerings, and the least costly gifts. we are destroying the fruitful earth with the lust in our appetites. in our avarice we lose the divinity within. nothing that man creates divine postman will ever surpass the beauty of mind and body.

commerce, science, engineering, agriculture can never build as great a kingdom that nature creates within. we have domesticated nature with all our devices. and as we set bounds around the bountiful earth with all its creatures, we imprison ourselves.

man will only be free when he sacrifices all the nonsense that he has acquired and follow the sun and moon, finding refuge in the sea and the mountain. we account to the sun and moon divine postman with all that we do on the earth. so much poverty i see in all these city dolls who seek to bend the laws of fortune. i find true everlasting riches that abound in abundance, in the silent countryside of matatiele.

divine postman: it was not the monuments and the arts of war that rome cultivated which granted her immortal fame; instead it was the wisdom of romulus, the spirit of the divine in numa, the boldness of caesar, the virtues of cato. the power to choose is the ultimate power that a man and a woman possess. let none ever take it away from you.

the roots of time hold the meaning of our lives. the deeper the roots of a tree are entrenched to the ground, the longer the harvest will last. we cannot sell our liberty and power euripides to save the sensibility of others. the earth will only heal my friend when its inhabitants appreciate the life that it gives.

besides, all persons have their moments of reason euripides, when they look out into the eternal sea of absolute truth. the populace think that your rejection of popular standard is a rejection of all standard and mere antinomianism; and the bold sensualist will use the name of philosophy to gild his crimes. but the law of consciousness abides.

the actions of today will be meaningless when they are not informed by our history. when the spiritual nature unfolds in strict harmony with the body, a man’s divine power is unleashed. man is his own star euripides and the soul that can render an honest and a divine man.

commands all light, all influence, all fate. nothing to him falls early or too late my friend, there is harmony with every step that he takes. night and day have been tampered with, every quality and pith surcharged and sultry with a power that works its will on every age and hour.

euripides: there is a difference between one and another hour of life in their authority and subsequent effect. our faith comes in moments divine postman; our vice is habitual. yet there is a depth in those brief moments which constrains us to ascribe more reality to them than to all other experiences.

for this reason the argument which is always forthcoming to silence those who conceive extraordinary hopes of man, namely the appeal to experience, is forever invalid and vain. we give up the past to the objector divine postman, and yet we hope. he must explain this hope.

we grant that human life is mean, but how did we find out that it was mean? what is the ground of this uneasiness of ours; of this old discontent? what is the universal sense of want and ignorance, but the fine innuendo by which the soul makes its enormous claim? we are on a mission to serve mankind with the great talent we have been given.

why do men feel that the natural history of man divine postman has never been written, but he is always leaving behind what you have said of him, and it becomes old, and books of metaphysics worthless? the philosophy of ten thousand years has not searched the chambers and magazines of the soul.

in its experiments there has always remained, in the last analysis, a residuum it could not resolve. man is a stream divine postman whose source is hidden. our being is descending into us from we know not whence. nature is a mystery which can never be solved. it is for us to obey my friend, for we do not know the glory that awaits us above the mountain.

divine postman: the most exact calculator has no prescience that somewhat incaclulable may not balk the very next moment. iAM constrained euripides every moment to acknowledge a higher origin for events than the will i call mine. as with events, so is it with thoughts.

when i watch the flowers, the plants and the vegetables grow, which, out of regions i see not, pour for a season their health and beauty into me, i see that iAM a pensioner euripides; not a cause but a surprised spectator of this ethereal water, whose roots i can never find; that i desire and look up and put myself in the attitude of reception, but from some unknown energy the visions come.

it is a mystery that history will never solve and refuses to be named. the supreme critic on the errors of the past and the present, and the only prophet of that which must be, is that great nature in which we rest euripides as the earth lies in the soft arms of the ocean.

that unity, that oversoul, within which every man’s particular being is contained and made one with all other; that common heart of which all sincere conversation is the worship, to which all right action is submission; that overpowering reality which confutes our tricks and talents, and constrains every one to pass for what he is.

euripides: and to speak from his character and not from his tongue, and which evermore tends to pass into our thought and hand and become wisdom and virtue and power and beauty. oh! let man believe in his natural genius, apollo, and return to his native riches.

for whatever he puts his hand on with love will endure for centuries of time. it is good to forgive divine postman, that we may live in peace and continue our voyage with no anger and no burden. the end of the matter is always more sublime than the beginning. let us feed on wisdom my friend, bringer of fairest fame.

the beauty of summer will wipe every tear. in the age of gold free from winter’s cold, youth and maiden bright to the holy light, naked in the sunny beams delight. cruelty has a human heart divine postman, and jealousy a human face; terror the human form divine, and secresy the human dress.

it feels to be a dream my friend when yesteryear we took that leap; today it is a reality, and those days of sorrow are now memories. i find shelter in my solitude, i find safety in the sea. i know that i can be someone divine postman.

i have a feeling that in the internal ocean i belong. the silent one did not fail thales, pythagoras, and numa, neither will she fail me. everlasting is the glory in nature, i grow in beauty in her presence. wisdom is worth more than silver, bronze, and gold.

the first principle of being is beyond sense or feeling is invisible and uncreated, and discernible only by the mind. it is impossible to apprehend deity except by the intellect. how can i not be grateful divine postman for all the good that i have been given. this truth i know my friend, that what moves all things is earth, fire, water. things exist by imitation of numbers.

divine postman: it will take three months for a natural change to occur in our lives. it is not good to be motivated by what is external, but to believe the revelations of the soul. when the fruit is ripe nature will drop it before our feet and prepare us for the harvest that is to come.

numbers are the causes of the reality of other things. it is only through experience, euripides, that we can understand the meaning of numbers. the pythagoreans who adopted mathematics from the egyptians, endeavored their whole lives to advance this study.

for they thought its principles were the principles of all things. since of these principles euripides numbers are by nature the first, and in numbers they seemed to see many resemblances to the things that exist and come into being. such and such a modification of numbers being justice, another being virtue, another being soul and reason, another being opportunity.

and similarly almost all other things being numerically expressible. since, again, they saw that the modifications and the ratios of the musical scales were expressible in numbers; since, then, all other things seemed in their whole nature to be modelled on numbers, and numbers euripides seemed to be the first things in the whole of nature.

they supposed the elements of numbers my friend to be the elements of all things, and the whole heaven to be a musical scale and a number. beauty is a number that is earned through suffering. fortune will manifest when we reach the perfect number through endurance of hardships and with a faith that moves the stars.

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divine postman: beautiful face, i always thought that iAM nothing without you, so i never let go of your hand. but darling iAM stronger within. everything the individual sees without him corresponds to his states of mind, and everything is in turn intelligible to him.

as his onward thinking leads him into the truth to which that fact or series belongs. the pursuit of knowledge will necessitate for one to sacrifice all worldly relations. there is a great cost lee to receiving and sustaining the truth.

the primeval world,- the foreworld, as the germans call it, i can dive to it in myself as well as grope for it with researching fingers in cetacombs, libraries, and the broken reliefs and torsos of ruined villas.

what is the foundation of that interest all men feel lee in greek history, letters, art, and poetry, in all its periods from the heroic or homeric age down to the domestic life of the athenians and spartans, four or five centuries later? what but this my friend, that every man passes personally through a grecian period.

lee: please stay here with me, darling hold me now. i will always remember thee. those moments we shared live in my spirit today. you are my only lover, my only lover; divine postman i feel you under my body, honey you are with me forever and always.

the grecian state is the era of the bodily nature, the perfection of the senses,- of the spiritual nature unfolded in strict unity with the body. let us pay the price divine postman to receive our history. in ancient greece existed those human forms which supplied the sculptor with his models of hercules, phoebus, and zeus.

not like the forms abounding in the streets of modern cities, wherein the face is a confused blur of features, that always think about feeding their appetites. it is rare to find persons who are composed of incorrupt, sharply defined and symmetrical features my friend.

whose eye sockets are so formed that it would be impossible for such persons to squint and take furtive glances on this side and on that, but they must turn the whole head. the manners of the grecian period divine postman are plain and fierce. the reverence exhibited is for personal qualities; courage, address, self-command, justice, strength, swiftness, a loud voice, a broad chest.

where there is a scarcity of nature my friend, there is poverty. people grow conservative as they get older, and settle for family, households, and waking up in the morning to rush to offices. they live in ignorance divine postman and fear to be alone. thus they lose the riches of the soul.

divine postman: you were the only one that i ever loved lee, on you i held my gaze. before your feet i cried and believed in our dream. i sold my house with all that was in it, and set sail to the sea. i grow wiser in all my journeys.

in the beginning my friend it was never easy but time is fulfiling her divine will,- all is well that ends well. our patient love will be justified. everything about our society is backward lee,- from schools to hospitals, to machines. in all that we do, we reject the sovereignty of nature, and want things to be easy.

luxury and elegance are not known in ancient greece my friend. a sparse population and want make every man his own valet, butcher, cook, and soldier; and the habit of supplying his own needs educates the body to wonderful performances. compare the simple nature of the grecian man and spartan woman with the clutter of our mechanical men and women.

the twenty first century with all its technology and ease of life has destroyed the beauty within. we have come to trust in all that is external lee and never remain rooted in the splendor of the soul.

whoever does not anchor this radical technology with wisdom will be lost. all that is good lives within, there is a work that nature has to fulfill within. all that is needed from us is to obey. all our tools and possessions will never surpass the eternal glory in nature. never in the history of mankind will there be an age that will produce an invention as timeless as the tree.

none of the laws in sparta that were initiated by lycurgus were put into writing, indeed, one of the so-called rhetras forbids it lee. for he thought that if the most important and binding principles which conduce to the prosperity and virtue of a city were implanted in the habits and training of its citizens, they would remain unchanged and secure.

the mind will only remember the habits of the body. another rhetra that lycurgus initiated was directed against extravagance. ordaining that every house should have its roof fashioned by the axe, and its doors by the saw only, and by no other tool.

lee: you were never alone, i was always by your side, though physically not there my spirit will never leave you. i remember when we sat together under the oak tree, and listened to the song that the birds would sing.

we said no to having children, as painful a decision that was, nature gives us much more today. everyday we explore this unbounded substance and grow in love. this ineffable cause that commands our absolute attention, we kneel before it in our baffled intellect.

it knows nothing but purity, and is a vast-flowing vigor that needs to be nourished wisely. this vigor is supremely great divine postman, and in the highest degree unbending. nourish it correctly and do it no injury, and it will fill up the vacancy between heaven and earth.

it moves with patience, and when it pricks us within it intends for us to grow, that we may be one with our star. we are made for love,- the glory in nature is the glory in man. the soul knows where it belongs my friend. what came from the earth will return to the earth. all men have to obey orders, except the gods who rule.

earth, wind, water, fire is the invisible hand that compels all men to obedience. i once thought divine postman, that man was destroying nature with all his consumption habits. now i know my friend that it is nature that destroys men when they do not obey. hera says, “eat as much meat as you can yea pathetic mortals, but do know that you will get obese and it will kill you.”

divine postman: a third rhetra of lycurgus, lee, is mentioned, which forbids making frequent expeditions against the same enemies, in order not to accustom such enemies to frequent defence of themselves, which would make them warlike. and this was the special grievance they had against agesilaus in later times.

namely, that by his continual and frequent incursions and expeditions into boeotia he rendered the thebans a match for the lacedaemonians. when people tell you, that “no it is not possible,” again and again they build the spiritual fibre in your soul lee and you begin to believe that, “yes, it is possible.”

all things in life are simplified to a conversation. what you talk about the most is what you treasure in your heart. all things are fulfilled when we persist. and therefore when antalcidas saw the king wounded, he said, “this is a fine tuition-fee which thou art getting from the thebans, for teaching them how to fight, when they did not wish to do it, and did not know how.”

such ordinances as these were called rhetras by lycurgus, lee, implying that they came from the god and were common sense. the purpose of living in leisure my friend is that we may grow and be of service to mankind. the poet will never inspire the world when he is lost in the crowd.

he must exercise his mind and body daily to enrich humanity with the wisdom he has found in all his wanderings. we become gods in solitude. the great man is he who in the midst of the crowd keeps with perfect sweetness the independence of solitude. the voice of apollo will only speak to us when we remain solitary. the fools are a legion.

lee: i had to take a leap of faith and see what life had in store for me. together we won that war and though we are wounded the sun will heal every sorrow. i found refuge in the wide sea divine postman, and layed under the moonlight. now iAM better and believe in your bright smile.

the achilles, the patroclus, and the odysseus of homer, embody the divine man who has successfully combined mind, body, and spirit. and not far different my friend is the picture xenophon gives of himself and his compatriots in the retreat of the ten thousand.

after the army had crossed the river teleboas in armenia, there fell much snow, and the troops lay miserably on the ground covered with it. but xenophon, arose naked, and taking an axe, began to split wood; whereupon others rose and did the like. throughout his army divine postman exists a boundless liberty of speech.

they quarrel for plunder, they wrangle with the generals on each new order, and xenophon is as sharp-tongued as any and sharper tongued than most, and so gives as good as he gets. we cripple a child when we put helpers around him and never let him do things on his own. we rob him of his hands and feet.

a military or marine education is as imperative as learning how to read and write. who does not see my friend that in xenophon’s army exists a gang of great boys, with such a code of honor, and such lax of discipline as great boys have? nature will fashion us for a single great purpose divine postman,- athena will inspire the faithful heart to dwell in patience.

divine postman: please have faith in my words and keep moving forward. i will be your saviour with all these lovely memories. our love will never die although we are seperated in time. hope is the heart that beats; love awaits the patient.

in the matter of education lycurgus regarded as the noblest and greatest task of the law-giver. our faith yielded glory lee, anything that a man conceives in his mind may be divinely done. the masses only believe when they see machines, and appearances. they have not faith in the glory of the human soul. they like only such actions as have already long had the praise of men.

they think greatness entailed or organized in some places or duties, in certain offices or occasions. the nation that lycurgus created is proof lee, that rigid simplicity is superior to the clutter of superficial wealth. all that david had was a sling and a stone, while goliath lost all his power in his heavy armour.

and oh! how he went crashing down to the ground. there is victory in simplicity. shout it out loud lee. stand on your simple rooftops and tell the whole world that babylon has fallen. for love conquered all and sustained her faithful sons and daughters. the mind of hera is unmistakably just, and leaves us all to pursue our heart’s desire.

lee: lycurgus began at the very source, by carefully regulating marriages and births. for it is not true that he tried to bring the women under proper restraint, but desisted, because he could not overcome the great licence and power which the women enjoyed on account of the many expeditions in which their husbands were engaged.

during these the men were indeed obliged to leave their wives in sole control at home, and for this reason paid them greater deference than was their due. and gave them the title of mistress. but even to the women lycurgus paid all possible attention divine postman.

he made the maidens exercise their bodies in running, wrestling, casting the discus, and hurling the javelin, in order that the fruit of their wombs might have vigorous root in vigorous bodies and come to better maturity. and that the women themselves might come with vigour to the fulness of their times, and struggle successfully and easily with the pangs of childbirth.

heaven knows how to unite spirits from afar and bind them together in the purity of love. though you not here with me physically divine postman, i feel you under my body. destiny will unite us upon the uncovering of our history. time is wisest of all and will bring everything to light. there is a time and a season for everything my friend.

a time to weep, and a time to smile; a time to give, and a time to gather; a time to wait, and a time to move; a time to love, and a time to hate; a time to speak, and a time to listen; a time to obey, and a time to command.

there is a time to live divine postman and a time to die. everyday that we wake up in the morning we drink of the abundant waters of time; when our cup has been emptied we will lay in the serene mountain. if my heart stops pumping tomorrow, do not feel any sorrow. these words will be a memory, and a shelter to many.

divine postman: lycurgus freed the women from softness and delicacy and all effeminacy by accustoming the maidens no less than the youths to wear tunics only in processions. and at certain festivals to dance and sing when the young men were present as spectators.

there they sometimes even mocked and railled good-naturedly lee at any youth who had misbehaved himself. a greater age there was before this mess of modernity my friend, with heroes and heroeines who feared not poverty, not death, and not solitude.

the women in sparta would sing the praises of those who had shown themselves worthy lee, and so inspire the young men with great ardor and ambition. for he who was thus extolled for his valor and held in honor among the maidens, went away exalted by their praises.

while the sting of their playful raillery was no less sharp than that of serious admonitions, especially as the kings and senators, together with the rest of the citizens, were all present at the spectacle. nor was there anything disgraceful lee in this scant clothing of the maidens, for modesty attended them, and wantonness was banished.

lee: nay, rather, it produced in them habits of simplicity and an ardent desire for health and beauty of body. it gave also to women a taste of lofty sentiment, for they felt that they too had a place in the arena of bravery and ambition. it is only when we act well and think well that we impart life.

wherefore the women in sparta divine postman were led to speak and think as gorgo, the wife of leonidas, is said to have done. when some foreign woman, as it would seem, said to her, “you spartan women are the only ones who rule their men,” she answered, “yes, for we are the only ones that give birth to men!”

the costly charm of the ancient tragedy, and indeed of all the old literature, is that the persons speak simply,- speak as persons who have great good sense without knowing it, before yet the reflective habit has become the predominant habit of the mind. our admiration of the antique divine postman is not admiration of the old but of the natural.

love communicates in mysterious ways, the heart knows what is true and with whom it belongs. there is something beyond these cars, these homes, these families on this earth. we made it through the storm my friend, and now we reap our eternal rewards. the soul’s emphasis is always right divine postman.

divine postman: the greeks are not reflective my friend, but perfect in their senses and in their health, with the finest physical organization in the world. they made vases, tragedies, and statues, such as healthy senses should,- that is in good taste. such things have continued to be made in all ages lee, wherever a healthy physique exists.

but, as a class, from their superior organization, the greeks have surpassed all. our age is lost in all the arts of music, movies, and videos; there is a need for the poet who will traverse the whole scale of experience and write of the spirit of the age. he is to combine the energy of manhood with the engaging unconsciousness of childhood.

and always have faith in the eternal glory of the human soul. for he alone lee knows what was, what is, and what will be. the breadth of the problem is great, for the poet is representative. he stands among partial men for the complete man, and apprises us not of his wealth my friend, but of the commonwealth. all i was searching for was me.

when i think of your eyes i cannot help but weep, yet with every word i believe and know that death will never take me away without me holding you in my arms once again. oh! how faith will move every mountain lee, nature is sovereign over all things. she will uproot and tear down, and crush the ignorant like pottery.

abundant as the waters of the ocean are all her riches,- eternal, boundless, fathomless is her fortune. since neither now nor yesterday began this glory, which has ever been, nor yet can a man be found who its first entrance knew. a great love will move the heavens above.

lee: this season of our lives is a test; the richness of the bond that we shared is being put to trial by the seasons. will it endure through tough times and come out divine? or, was it all momentary,- a flashing fire that would not last? how one relates to their soul is how they will relate to everything. what fugitive can runaway from himself divine postman?

i remember when we cycled in grahamstown in the cold winter, and climbed the hills that were decorated with the wind turbines. we laughed for a while and held each other, knowing there was so much more to see in this life. there is never an end to the knowledge in nature. she is loved by what is best in us and forever inspires a desire to explore her beauty.

upon the seasons completing their work in us, we bid farewell to the mountains of grahamstown and moved to the sea. as spring was lost into summer, and summer was lost into winter, and winter folded into autumn, we learned that we do not have too long to live. our time my friend is limited, death at any moment can take us away. there is only but one life to live divine postman.

you have to serve the purpose that athena has called you to. the attraction of the grecian manners is that they belong to man, and are known to every man in virtue of his being once a child; besides that divine postman there are always individuals who retain these characteristics. a person of child-like genius and inborn energy is still a greek, and revives our love of the muse of hellas.

i admire the love of nature in xenophon’s journeys. he was beloved by nature and was cast into flesh by the large and beautiful plains of cilicia. well-watered and full of trees of all sorts and vines; producing an abundance of sesame, millet, panic, wheat, and barely, surrounded on every side from sea to sea, by a lofty and formidable range of mountains.

i feel the eternity of man the identity of his thought in his words. the greeks are engraved into the memory of mankind divine postman because they embodied the spirit of nature. it is only the works of art that conform to nature’s laws that will endure. life is not a race my friend but a journey, and the words of plato, aristotle, and xenophon teach us to explore and ask the big questions.

divine postman: you always taught me to be me and to abide by my spontaneity; it is only in our easy, spontaneous, and simple action that we are strong lee. all that lives my friend is within. you said to be a man is to learn how to wait. you ravished my soul with the beauty that you found from within.

now i know my friend that there is no greater power in heaven above and in the earth below than a patient love. let us wait by these waters in the sea, as the seasons roll and the scrolls of fate revealed, the stars above will bring us together again.

the future will bring greater joy, for we had faith in our history and descended to the roots of our being. time will ripen every dream to maturity, and when the soul is upright our fruit will fall from the tree. the greeks had it seems the same fellow beings as us lee. the sun and moon, water and fire, earth and air met their heart’s desire precisely as they meet ours.

then the vaunted distinction between greek and english, between classic and romantic schools, seems superficial and pedantic. oh! how athena decieves men lee, passing by their faces with the winds that blow yet never opening their eyes to her beauty. for they have rejected her eternal truth, and live for all things fleeting.

lee: the great beauty is hidden to the understanding. it is only the soul that can perceive and reveal truth. when a thought of plato, divine postman, becomes a thought to me, when a truth that fired the soul of thales fires mine, time is no more.

when i feel that we two meet in a perception, that our two souls are tinged with the same hue, and do as it were run into one, why should i measure degrees of latitude, why should i count egyptian years my friend? i learn that there is one mind common to all individual men. of the works of this mind history is the record. only truth alone will make rich and great.

darling we must keep this love concealed, most beautiful it is in silence. more beautiful it is than gold and rubies, the spirit of love will never leave our heart; we love each other for who we are and not for what we have. our presence is the fire that burns in the stars.

a wise man once told me that life is cruel, and the only relief from the burdens of life is a believing love. oh! how everlasting is time in her mystery, weaving in and out of all things, destroying another life and renewing another before it. riches divine postman can only be attained with the successful combination of our history with our destiny.

divine postman: without hurry, without rest, the human spirit goes forth from the beginning to embody every faculty, every thought, every emotion, which belongs to it, in appropriate events. this great ambition that we had my friend time did fulfill, and anchored us in the roots of eternity.

all the facts of history pre-exist in the mind as laws lee. each law in turn is made by circumstances pre-dominant, and the limits of nature give power to but one at a time. all men are given a guide that will lead them to their crown. the sphinx must solve her own riddle.

if the whole of history is in one man lee it is all to be explained from individual experience. there is a relation between the hours of our life and the centuries of time. as the air i breathe is drawn from the great repositories of nature, as the light on my iphone is yielded by a star a hundred of millions of miles distant.

as the poise of my body depends on the equilibruim of centrifugal and centripetal forces, so the hours should be instructed by the ages, and the ages explained by the hours. let us be the voice of apollo lee, that will endure for centuries. only the wise will continue. we live by the mercy of queenly hera. the victory my friend is found in truth.

history will justify the martyr. life has not changed much my friend from the days of hunters and gatherers to the twenty second century. we are still explorers who roam the earth, and the poets are the shepherds who will always watch their sheep, singing songs in the countryside and remaining rooted in patience.

there is nothing more bitter than truth lee, it transforms the human constitution crushing all our illusions. every man and every woman will confront it. those who choose to live in ignorance will not run away from death.

time is the hand that gives, and takes away. although we are here lee someday we will be gone. give me strength yea almighty heaven and earth for the times that lay ahead. iAM a traveller in this life lee, living by the grace of the seasons. i will find shelter in the truth.

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