which some unknown visitor has laid aside. The thought we read
is related to the thought which springs up in ourselves, as the
fossil-impress of some prehistoric plant to a plant as it buds forth
in spring-time.

Reading is nothing more than a substitute for thought of one's own. It
means putting the mind into leading-strings. The multitude of books
serves only to show how many false paths there are, and how widely
astray a man may wander if he follows any of them. But he who
is guided by his genius, he who thinks for himself, who thinks
spontaneously and exactly, possesses the only compass by which he can
steer aright. A man should read only when his own thoughts stagnate
at their source, which will happen often enough even with the best of
minds. On the other hand, to take up a book for the purpose of scaring
away one's own original thoughts is sin against the Holy Spirit. It is
like running away from Nature to look at a museum of dried plants or
gaze at a landscape in copperplate.

A man may have discovered some portion of truth or wisdom, after
spending a great deal of time and trouble in thinking it over for
himself and adding thought to thought; and it may sometimes happen
that he could have found it all ready to hand in a book and spared
himself the trouble. But even so, it is a hundred times more valuable
if he has acquired it by thinking it out for himself. For it is only
when we gain our knowledge in this way that it enters as an integral
part, a living member, into the whole system of our thought; that it
stands in complete and firm relation with what we know; that it is
understood with all that underlies it and follows from it; that it
wears the color, the precise shade, the distinguishing mark, of our
own way of thinking; that it comes exactly at the right time, just