WALK with thy fellow-creatures; note the hush
And whispers amongst them. There’s not a spring
Or leafe but hath his morning-hymn; each bush
And oak doth know I Am. Canst thou not sing?
O leave thy cares and follies! Go this way,
And thou art sure to prosper all the day.
THE man who cannot wonder, who does not habitually wonder (and worship), were he President of innumerable Royal Societies, and carried the whole Meccinique Celeste and Hegel Philosophy, and the Epitome of all Laboratories and Observatories, with their results, in his single head — is but a pair of spectacles, behind which there is no Eye. Let those who have eyes look through him, then he may be useful.
THUS revering the soul, and learning, as the ancient said, that “its beauty is immense,” man will come to see that the world is the perennial miracle which the soul worketh, and be less astonished at particular wonders; he will learn that there is no profane history; that all history is sacred; that the universe is represented in an atom, in a moment of time. He will weave no longer a spotted life of shreds and patches, but he will live with a divine unity. He will cease from what is base and frivolous in his life, and be content with all places and with any service he can render. He will calmly front the morrow in the negligency of that trust which carries God with it, and so hath already the whole future in the bottom of the heart.
Ralph Waldo Emerson