The Poet at the Breakfast-TableHolmes, Oliver Wendell
General
The Poet at the Breakfast-Table
Holmes, Oliver Wendell
American fiction -- 19th century; Conversation -- Fiction; Poetry
--Sir,--said he,--I take stock in everything that concerns anybody.
Humani nihil,--you know the rest. But if you ask me what is my
specialty, I should say, I applied myself more particularly to the
contemplation of the Order of Things.
--A pretty wide subject,--I ventured to suggest.
--Not wide enough, sir,--not wide enough to satisfy the desire of a mind
which wants to get at absolute truth, without reference to the empirical
arrangements of our particular planet and its environments. I want to
subject the formal conditions of space and time to a new analysis, and
project a possible universe outside of the Order of Things. But I have
narrowed myself by studying the actual facts of being. By and by--by and
by--perhaps--perhaps. I hope to do some sound thinking in heaven--if
I ever get there,--he said seriously, and it seemed to me not
irreverently.
--I rather like that,--I said. I think your telescopic people are, on
the whole, more satisfactory than your microscopic ones.
--My left-hand neighbor fidgeted about a little in his chair as I said
this. But the young man sitting not far from the Landlady, to whom my
attention had been attracted by the expression of his eyes, which seemed
as if they saw nothing before him, but looked beyond everything, smiled
a sort of faint starlight smile, that touched me strangely; for until
that moment he had appeared as if his thoughts were far away, and I
had been questioning whether he had lost friends lately, or perhaps had
never had them, he seemed so remote from our boarding-house life. I
will inquire about him, for he interests me, and I thought he seemed
interested as I went on talking.
--No,--I continued,--I don't want to have the territory of a man's mind
fenced in. I don't want to shut out the mystery of the stars and
the awful hollow that holds them. We have done with those hypaethral
temples, that were open above to the heavens, but we can have attics and
skylights to them. Minds with skylights,--yes,--stop, let us see if we
can't get something out of that.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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