Shams and delusions are esteemed for soundest truths， while reality is fabulous.  If men would steadily observe realities only，and not allow themselves to be deluded， life， to compare it with such things as we know， would be like a fairy tale and the Arabian Nights' Entertainments.  If we respected only what is inevitable and has a right to be， music and poetry would resound along the streets. When we are unhurried and wise， we perceive that only great and worthy things have any permanent and absolute existence， that petty fears and petty pleasures are but the shadow of the reality.  This is always exhilarating and sublime.  By closing the eyes and slumbering， and consenting to be deceived by shows， men establish and confirm their daily life of routine and habit everywhere， which still is built on purely illusory foundations.  Children， who play life， discern its true law and relations more clearly than men， who fail to live it worthily， but who think that they are wiser by experience， that is， by failure.  I have read in a Hindoo book， that "there was a king's son， who， being expelled in infancy from his native city， was brought up by a forester， and， growing up to maturity in that state， imagined himself to belong to the barbarous race with which he lived.  One of his father's ministers having discovered him， revealed to him what he was， and the misconception of his character was removed， and he knew himself to be a prince. So soul，" continues the Hindoo philosopher， "from the circumstances in which it is placed， mistakes its own character， until the truth is revealed to it by some holy teacher， and then it knows itself to be Brahme."  I perceive that we inhabitants of New England live this mean life that we do because our vision does not penetrate the surface of things.  We think that that is which appears to be.  If a man should walk through this town and see only the reality， where，think you， would the "Mill-dam" go to？  If he should give us an account of the realities he beheld there， we should not recognize the place in his description.  Look at a meeting-house， or a court-house， or a jail， or a shop， or a dwelling-house， and say what that thing really is before a true gaze， and they would all go to pieces in your account of them.  Men esteem truth remote， in the outskirts of the system， behind the farthest star， before Adam and after the last man.  In eternity there is indeed something true and sublime.  But all these times and places and occasions are now and here.  God himself culminates in the present moment， and will never be more divine in the lapse of all the ages.  And we are enabled to apprehend at all what is sublime and noble only by the perpetual instilling and drenching of the reality that surrounds us.  The universe constantly and obediently answers to our conceptions；whether we travel fast or slow， the track is laid for us.  Let us spend our lives in conceiving then.  The poet or the artist never yet had so fair and noble a design but some of his posterity at least could accomplish it.

　　Let us spend one day as deliberately as Nature， and not be thrown off the track by every nutshell and mosquito's wing that falls on the rails.  Let us rise early and fast， or break fast，gently and without perturbation； let company come and let company go， let the bells ring and the children cry ―― determined to make a day of it.  Why should we knock under and go with the stream？  Let us not be upset and overwhelmed in that terrible rapid and whirlpool called a dinner， situated in the meridian shallows.  Weather this danger and you are safe， for the rest of the way is down hill.  With unrelaxed nerves， with morning vigor， sail by it， looking another way， tied to the mast like Ulysses.  If the engine whistles， let it whistle till it is hoarse for its pains.  If the bell rings， why should we run？  We will consider what kind of music they are like. Let us settle ourselves， and work and wedge our feet downward through the mud and slush of opinion， and prejudice， and tradition，and delusion， and appearance， that alluvion which covers the globe，through Paris and London， through New York and Boston and Concord，through Church and State， through poetry and philosophy and religion， till we come to a hard bottom and rocks in place， which we can call reality， and say， This is， and no mistake； and then begin，having a point d'appui， below freshet and frost and fire， a place where you might found a wall or a state， or set a lamp-post safely，or perhaps a gauge， not a Nilometer， but a Realometer， that future ages might know how deep a freshet of shams and appearances had gathered from time to time.  If you stand right fronting and face to face to a fact， you will see the sun glimmer on both its surfaces，as if it were a cimeter， and feel its sweet edge dividing you through the heart and marrow， and so you will happily conclude your mortal career.  Be it life or death， we crave only reality.  If we are really dying， let us hear the rattle in our throats and feel cold in the extremities； if we are alive， let us go about our business.

　　Time is but the stream I go a-fishing in.  I drink at it； but while I drink I see the sandy bottom and detect how shallow it is. Its thin current slides away， but eternity remains.  I would drink deeper； fish in the sky， whose bottom is pebbly with stars.  I cannot count one.  I know not the first letter of the alphabet.  I have always been regretting that I was not as wise as the day I was born.  The intellect is a cleaver； it discerns and rifts its way into the secret of things.  I do not wish to be any more busy with my hands than is necessary.  My head is hands and feet.  I feel all my best faculties concentrated in it.  My instinct tells me that my head is an organ for burrowing， as some creatures use their snout and fore paws， and with it I would mine and burrow my way through these hills.  I think that the richest vein is somewhere hereabouts；so by the divining-rod and thin rising vapors I judge； and here I will begin to mine.

　　謊騙和謬見已被高估為最健全的真理，現實倒是荒誕不經的。如果世人只是穩健地觀察現實，不允許他們自己受欺被騙，那末，用我們所知道的來譬喻，生活將好像是一篇童話，仿佛是一部《天方夜譚》了。如果我們只尊敬一切不可避免的，并有存在權利的事物，音樂和詩歌便將響徹街頭。如果我們不慌不忙而且聰明，我們會認識唯有偉大而優美的事物才有永久的絕對的存在，――瑣瑣的恐懼與碎碎的歡喜不過是現實的陰影。

　　現實常常是活潑而崇高的。由于閉上了眼睛，神魂顛倒，任憑自己受影子的欺騙，人類才建立了他們日常生活的軌道和習慣，到處遵守它們，其實它們是建筑在純粹幻想的基礎之上的。嬉戲地生活著的兒童，反而更能發現生活的規律和真正的關系，勝過了大人，大人不能有價值地生活，還以為他們是更聰明的，因為他們有經驗，這就是說，他們時常失敗。我在一部印度的書中讀到，“有一個王子，從小給逐出故土之城，由一個樵夫撫養成長，一直以為自己屬于他生活其中的賤民階級。他父親手下的官員后來發現了他，把他的出身告訴了他，對他的性格的錯誤觀念于是被消除了，他知道自己是一個王子。

　　所以，“那印度哲學家接下來說，”由于所處環境的緣故，靈魂誤解了他自己的性格，非得由神圣的教師把真相顯示了給他。然后，他才知道他是婆羅門。“我看到，我們新英格蘭的居民之所以過著這樣低賤的生活，是因為我們的視力透不過事物表面。我們把似乎是當作了是。如果一個人能夠走過這一個城鎮，只看見現實，你想，”貯水池“就該是如何的下場？如果他給我們一個他所目擊的現實的描寫，我們都不會知道他是在描寫什么地方。看看會議廳，或法庭，或監獄，或店鋪，或住宅，你說，在真正凝視它們的時候，這些東西到底是什么啊，在你的描繪中，它們都紛紛倒下來了。人們尊崇迢遙疏遠的真理，那在制度之外的，那在最遠一顆星后面的，那在亞當以前的，那在末代以后的。自然，在永恒中是有著真理和崇高的。可是，所有這些時代，這些地方和這些場合，都是此時此地的啊！上帝之偉大就在于現在偉大，時光盡管過去，他絕不會更加神圣一點的。只有永遠滲透現實，發掘圍繞我們的現實，我們才能明白什么是崇高。宇宙經常順從地適應我們的觀念；不論我們走得快或慢，路軌已給我們鋪好。讓我們窮畢生之精力來意識它們。詩人和藝術家從未得到這樣美麗而崇高的設計，然而至少他的一些后代是能完成它的。

　　我們如大自然一般自然地過一天吧，不要因硬殼果或掉在軌道上的蚊蟲的一只翅膀而出了軌。讓我們黎明即起，不用或用早餐，平靜而又無不安之感；任人去人來，讓鐘去敲，孩子去哭，――下個決心，好好地過一天。為什么我們要投降，甚至于隨波逐流呢？讓我們不要卷入在于午線淺灘上的所謂午宴之類的可怕急流與旋渦，而驚惶失措。

　　熬過了這種危險，你就平安了，以后是下山的路了。神經不要松弛，利用那黎明似的魄力，向另一個方向航行，像尤利西斯那樣拴在桅桿上過活。如果汽笛嘯叫了，讓它叫得沙啞吧。如果鐘打響了，為什么我們要奔跑呢？我們還要研究它算什么音樂？讓我們定下心來工作，并用我們的腳跋涉在那些污泥似的意見、偏見、傳統、謬見與表面中間，這蒙蔽全地球的淤土啊，讓我們越過巴黎、倫敦、紐約、波士頓、康科德，教會與國家，詩歌，哲學與宗教，直到我們達到一個堅硬的底層，在那里的巖盤上，我們稱之為現實，然后說，這就是了，不錯的了，然后你可以在這個point d'appui 之上，在洪水、冰霜和火焰下面，開始在這地方建立一道城墻或一個國土，也許能安全地立起一個燈柱，或一個測量儀器，不是尼羅河水測量器了，而是測量現實的儀器，讓未來的時代能知道，謊騙與虛有其表曾洪水似的積了又積，積得多么深哪。如果你直立而面對著事實，你就會看到太陽閃耀在它的兩面，它好像一柄東方的短彎刀，你能感到它的甘美的鋒鏑正剖開你的心和骨髓，你也歡樂地愿意結束你的人間事業了。生也好，死也好，我們僅僅追求現實。如果我們真要死了，讓我們聽到我們喉嚨中的咯咯聲，感到四肢上的寒冷好了；如果我們活著，讓我們干我們的事務。

　　時間只是我垂釣的溪。我喝溪水，喝水時候我看到它那沙底，它多么淺啊。它的汨汨的流水逝去了，可是永恒留了下來。我愿飲得更深；在天空中打魚，天空的底層里有著石子似的星星。我不能數出“一”來。我不知道字母表上的第一個字母。我常常后悔，我不像初生時聰明了。智力是一把刀子；它看準了，就一路切開事物的秘密。我不希望我的手比所必需的忙得更多些。我的頭腦是手和足。我覺得我最好的官能都集中在那里。

　　我的本能告訴我，我的頭可以挖洞，像一些動物，有的用鼻子，有的用前爪，我要用它挖掘我的洞，在這些山峰中挖掘出我的道路來。我想那最富有的礦脈就在這里的什么地方；用探尋藏金的魔杖，根據那升騰的薄霧，我要判斷；在這里我要開始開礦。

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