the sun rule the day. He would see to it that our hours were various;
but we have preferred to his various face the plain face of a clock, and
the lights without vicissitudes of our nights without seasons.




ADDRESSES


Not free from some ignominious attendance upon the opinion of the world
is he who too consciously withdraws his affairs from its judgements. He
is indebted to "the public." He is at least indebted to it for the fact
that there is, yonder, without, a public. Lacking this excluded
multitude his fastidiousness would have no subject, and his singularity
no contrast. He would, in his grosser moods, have nothing to refuse, and
nothing, in his finer, to ignore.

He, at any rate, is one, and the rest are numerous. They minister to him
popular errors. But if they are nothing else in regard to himself, they
are many. If he must have distinction, it is there on easy terms--he is
one.

Well for him if he does not contract the heavier debt shouldered by the
man who owes to the unknown, un-named, and uncounted his pleasure in
their conjectured or implicit envy; who conceives the jealousy they may
have covertly to endure, enjoys it, and thus silently begins and ends
within his own morosity the story of his base advantage.

Vanity has indignity as its underside. And how shall even the pleasure