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Nothing is dead: men feign themselves dead, and endure mock funerals and mournful obituaries, and there they stand looking out ofthe window, sound and well, in some new and strange disguise.

Ralph Waldo Emerson

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Ralph Waldo Emerson
Age: 78 †
Born: 1803
Born: May 25
Died: 1882
Died: April 27
Biographer
Diarist
Essayist
Philosopher
Poet
Writer
Boston
Massachusetts
R. W. Emerson
Waldo Emerson
Well
Window
Feign
Nothing
Dead
Mournful
Men
Strange
Obituary
Stand
Funerals
Looking
Mock
Sound
Disguise
Death
Funeral
Obituaries
Wells
Endure
Ofthe

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The doctrine of Necessity or Destiny is the doctrine of Toleration.
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The pleasure of eloquence is in greatest part owing often to the stimulus of the occasion which produces it- - to the magic of sympathy, which exalts the feeling of each by radiating on him the feeling of all.
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The secrets of life are not shown except to sympathy and likeness.
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The French woman says, 'I am a woman and a Parisienne, and nothing foreign to me appears altogether human.'
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What is man born for but to be a Reformer, a Remaker of what man has made? A renouncer of lies a restorer of truth and good? Imitating that great Nature which embossoms us all, and which sleeps no moment on an old past, but every hour repairs herself, yielding us every morning a new day, with every breath a new life?
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Doing well is a result of doing good.
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Nature never rhymes her children, nor makes two men alike. When we see a great man, we fancy a resemblance to some historical person, and predict the sequel of his character and fortune, a result which he is sure to disappoint. None will ever solve the problem of his character according to our prejudice, but only in his high unprecedented way.
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The sentiment of virtue is a reverence and delight in the presence of certain divine laws. It perceives that this homely game of life we play, covers, under what seem foolish details, principles that astonish.
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We are too civil to books. For a few golden sentences we will turn over and actually read a volume of four or five hundred pages.
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The preamble of thought, the transition through which it passes from the unconscious to the conscious, is action. Only so much do I know, as I have lived. Instantly we know whose words are loaded with life, and whose not.
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The way to write is to throw your body at the mark when your arrows are spent.
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Foolish, whenever you take the meanness and formality of that thing you do, instead of converting it into the obedient spiracle ofyour character and aims.
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We must be courteous to a man as we are to a picture, which we are willing to give the advantage of a good light.
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The way of Providence is a little rude. The habit of snake and spider, the snap of the tiger and other leapers and bloody jumpers, the crackle of the bones of his prey in the coil of the anaconda-these are in the system, and our habits are like theirs.
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My angel,-his name is Freedom,- Choose him to be your king He shall cut pathways east and west, And fend you with his wing.
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Tis the privilege of Art Thus to play its cheerful part, Man on earth to acclimate And bend the exile to his fate.
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The power of a man increases steadily by continuing in one direction.
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I have heard that stiff people lose something of their awkwardness under high ceilings, and in spacious halls. I think, sculptureand painting have an effect to teach us manners, and abolish hurry.
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Take egotism out and you would castrate the benefactors.
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Nature is an endless combination and repetition of a very few laws. She hums the old well-known air through innumerable variations.
Ralph Waldo Emerson