Circles
拉尔夫·沃尔多·爱默生 / Ralph Waldo Emerson
The eye is the first circle； the horizon which it forms is the second； and throughout nature this primary figure is repeated without end. It is the highest emblem in the cipher of the world. St. Augustine described the nature of God as a circle whose centre was everywhere and its circumference nowhere. We are all our lifetime reading the copious sense of this first of forms. One moral we have already deduced in considering the circular or compensatory character of every human action. Another analogy we shall now trace， that every action admits of being outdone. Our life is an apprenticeship to the truth that around every circle another can be drawn； that there is no end in nature， but every end is a beginning； that there is always another dawn risen on mid-noon， and under every deep a lower deep opens.
This fact， as far as it symbolizes the moral fact of the Unattainable， the flying Perfect， around which the hands of man can never meet， at once the inspirer and the condemner of every success， may conveniently serve us to connect many illustrations of human power in every department.
There are no fixtures in nature. The universe is fluid and volatile. Permanence is but a word of degrees. Our globe seen by God is a transparent law， not a mass of facts. The law dissolves the fact and holds it fluid. Our culture is the predominance of an idea which draws after it this train of cities and institutions. Let us rise into another idea， they will disappear. The Greek sculpture is all melted away， as if it had been statues of ice； here and there a solitary figure of fragment remaining， as we see flecks and scraps of snow left in cold dells and mountain clefts in June and July. For the genius that created it creates now somewhat else. The Greek letters last a little longer， but are already passing under the same sentence and tumbling into the inevitable pit which the creation of new thought opens for all that is old. The new continents are built out of the ruins of an old planet； the new races fed out of the decomposition of the foregoing. New arts destroy the old. See the investment of capital in aqueducts made useless by hydraulics； fortifications， by gunpowder； roads and canals， by railways； sails， by steam； steam by electricity.
Each new step we take in thought reconciles twenty seemingly discordant facts， as expressions of one law. Aristotle and Plato are reckoned the respective heads of two schools. A wise man will see that Aristotle platonizes. By going one step farther back in thought， discordant opinions are reconciled by being seen to be two extremes of one principle， and we can never go so far back as to preclude a still higher vision.
Valor consists in the power of self-recovery， so that a man cannot have his flank turned， cannot be out-generalled， but put him where you will， he stands. This can only be by his preferring truth， to his past apprehension of truth， and his alert acceptance of it from whatever quarter； the intrepid conviction that his laws， his relations to society， his Christianity， his world， may at any time be superseded and decease.
Conversation is a game of circles. In conversation we pluck up the termini which bound the common of silence on every side. The parties are not to be judged by the spirit they partake and even express under this Pentecost. Tomorrow they will have receded from this high-water mark. Tomorrow you shall find them stooping under the old pack-saddles. Yet let us enjoy the cloven flame whilst it glows on our walls. When each new speaker strikes a new light， emancipates us from the oppression of the last speaker to oppress us with the greatness and exclusiveness of his own thought， then yields us to another redeemer， we seem to recover our rights， to become men. Oh， what truths profound and executable only in ages and orbs are supposed in the announcement of every truth！ In common hours， society sits cold and statuesque. We all stand waiting， empty-knowing， possibly， that we can be full， surrounded by mighty symbols which are not symbols to us， but prose and trivial toys. Then come the god and converts the statues into fiery men， and by a flash of his eye burns up the veil which shrouded all things， and the meaning of the very furniture， of cup and saucer， of chair and clock and tester， is manifest. The facts which loomed so large in the fogs of yesterday—property， climate， breeding， personal beauty and the like， have strangely changed their proportions. All that we reckoned settled shakes and rattles； and literatures， cities， climates， religions， leave their foundations and dance before our eyes. And yet here again see the swift circumscription！ Good as is discourse， silence is better， and shames it. The length of the discourse indicates the distance of thought betwixt the speaker and the hearer. If they were at a perfect understanding in any part， no words would be necessary thereon.
