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| Henry David Thoreau |
Essay
It matters not what the clocks say or the attitudes and
labors of men. Morning is when I am
awake and there is a dawn in me. Moral
reform is the effort to throw off sleep. . . . We must learn to reawaken and
keep ourselves awake, not by mechanical aids, but by an infinite expectation of
the dawn, which does not forsake us in our soundest sleep. I know of no more encouraging fact than the
unquestionable ability of man to elevate his life by a conscious endeavor. It is something to be able to paint a particular
picture, or to carve a statue, and so to make a few objects beautiful; but it
is far more glorious to carve and paint the very atmosphere and medium through
which we look, which morally we can do.
To affect the quality of the day, that is the highest of arts. Every man is tasked to make his life, even in
its details, worthy of the contemplation of his most elevated and critical
hour. If we refused, or rather used up,
such paltry information as we get, the oracles would distinctly inform us how
this might be done.
