Man is timid and apologetic; he is no longer upright; he dares not say
"I think," "I am," but quotes some saint or sage. He is ashamed before the
blade of grass or the blowing rose.
These roses under my window make no reference to former roses or
better ones; they are for what they are; they exist with God today. There is no
time to them. There is simply the rose; it is perfect in every moment of its
Before the leaf bud has burst, its whole life acts; in the full,blown
flower there is no more; in the leafless root there is no less. Its nature is
satisfied and it satisfies nature in all moments alike.
But man postpones or remembers; he does not live in the present, but
with reverted eye laments the past, or, heedless of the riches that surround
him, stands on tip toe to foresee the future. He cannot be happy and strong
until he too lives with nature in the present, above time.
The world globes itself in a drop of dew. The microscope cannot find
the animalcule which is less perfect for being little. Eyes, ears, taste, smell,
motion, resistance, appetite, and organs of reproduction that take hold on
eternity - all find room to consist in the small creature. So do we put our
life into every act.
If the good is there, so is the evil; if the affinity, so the repulsion; if the
force, so the limitation. Cause and effect, means and ends, seed and fruit,
cannot be severed; for the effect already blooms in the cause, the end preexists
in the means, the fruit in the seed. Thus is the universe alive.