Resumo de Ralph Waldo Emerson Essay V Love* Part 1 *

And,therefore, I know I incur the imputation of unnecessary hardness and stoicismfrom those who compose the Court and Parliament of Love. And thefirst condition is, that we must leave a too close and lingering adherence tofacts, and study the sentiment as it appeared in hope and not in history.Details are melancholy; the plan is seemly and noble. In the actual world ? thepainful kingdom of time and place ? dwell care, and canker, and fear. Withthought, with the ideal, is immortal hilarity, the rose of joy. Round it allthe Muses sing. But grief cleaves to names, and persons, and the partialinterests of to-day and yesterdayThestrong bent of nature is seen in the proportion which this topic of personalrelations usurps in the conversation of society. We understand them, and takethe warmest interest in the development of the romance. It is the dawn ofcivility and grace in the coarse and rustic. The girls may have little beauty,yet plainly do they establish between them and the good boy the most agreeable,confiding relations, what with their fun and their earnest, about Edgar, andJonas, and Almira, and who was invited to the party, and who danced at thedancing-school, and when the singing-school would begin, and other nothingsconcerning which the parties cooed. For persons are love's world, and thecoldest philosopher cannot recount the debt of the young soul wandering here innature to the power of love, without being tempted to unsay, as treasonable tonature, aught derogatory to the social instincts. In thenoon and the afternoon of life we still throb at the recollection of days whenhappiness was not happy enough, but must be drugged with the relish of pain andfear; for he touched the secret of the matter, who said of love, ? "Allother pleasures are not worth its pains"; andwhen the day was not long enough, but the night, too, must be consumed in keenrecollections; when the head boiled all night on the pillow with the generousdeed it resolved on; when the moonlight was a pleasing fever, and the starswere letters, and the flowers ciphers, and the air was coined into song; whenall business seemed an impertinence, and all the men and women running to andfro in the streets, mere pictures.

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