the tops of mountains are among the unfinished parts of the globe ( henry david thoreau )

It reminded me of the creations of the old epic and dramatic poets, of Atlas, Vulcan, the Cyclops, and Prometheus. Such was Caucasus and the rock where Prometheus was bound. Aeschylus had no dubt visited such scenery as this. It was, Titanic, and such as man never inhabits.

 

Some part of the beholder, even some vital part, seems to escape through the loose grating of his ribs as he ascends. He is more lone than you can imagine. there is less of substantial thought and fair understanding in him than in the plains where men inhabit. His reason is despersed and shadowy, more thin and subtile, like the air. Vast, Titanic, inhuman Nature has got him at disadvantage, caught him alone, and pilfers him of some of his divine faculty.

 

She does not smile on him as in the plains. She seems to say sternly, why came ye here before your time? This ground is not prepared for you. Is it not enough that I smile in the valleys? I have never made this soil for thy feet, this air for thy breathing, these rocks for thy neighbors. I cannot pity nor fondle thee here, but forever relentlessly drive thee hence to where I am kind. why seek me where I have not called thee, and then complain because you find me but a stepmother? Shouldst thou freeze or strave, or shudder thy life away, here is no shrine, nor altar, nor any access to my ear.

.

.

.

.

.

( henry david thoreau , the maine woods , 1846)

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Wednesday May 10 2017


Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s