Everything You Wanted Slowey down in thought

A won­der­ful seren­i­ty has tak­en pos­ses­sion of my entire soul, like these sweet morn­ings

I am so hap­py, my dear friend, so absorbed in the exquis­ite sense of mere tran­quil exis­tence, that I neglect my tal­ents.

I am alone, and feel the charm of exis­tence in this spot, which was cre­at­ed for the bliss of souls like mine. I am so hap­py, my dear friend, so absorbed in the exquis­ite sense of mere tran­quil exis­tence, that I neglect my tal­ents.

I should be inca­pable of draw­ing a sin­gle stroke at the present moment; and yet I feel that I nev­er was a greater artist than now.

When, while the love­ly val­ley teems with vapour around me, and the merid­i­an sun strikes the upper sur­face of the impen­e­tra­ble foliage of my trees, and but a few stray gleams steal into the inner sanc­tu­ary, I throw myself down among the tall grass by the trick­ling stream; and, as I lie close to the earth, a thou­sand unknown plants are noticed by me: when I hear the buzz of the lit­tle world among the stalks, and grow famil­iar with the count­less inde­scrib­able forms of the insects and flies, then I feel the pres­ence of the Almighty, who formed us in his own image, and the breath of that uni­ver­sal love which bears and sus­tains us, as it floats around us in an eter­ni­ty of bliss; and then, my friend, when dark­ness over­spreads my eyes, and heav­en and earth seem to dwell in my soul and absorb its pow­er, like the form of a beloved mis­tress, then I often think with long­ing, Oh, would I could describe these con­cep­tions, could impress upon paper all that is liv­ing so full and warm with­in me, that it might be the mir­ror of my soul, as my soul is the mir­ror of the infi­nite God!

O my friend — but it is too much for my strength — I sink under the weight of the splen­dour of these visions! A won­der­ful seren­i­ty has tak­en pos­ses­sion of my entire soul, like these sweet morn­ings of spring which I enjoy with my whole heart. I am alone, and feel the charm of exis­tence in this spot, which was cre­at­ed for the bliss of souls like mine.

I am so hap­py, my dear friend, so absorbed in the exquis­ite sense of mere tran­quil exis­tence, that I neglect my tal­ents. I should be inca­pable of draw­ing a sin­gle stroke at the present moment; and yet I feel that I nev­er was a greater artist than now. When, while the love­ly val­ley teems with vapour around me, and the merid­i­an sun strikes the upper sur­face of the impen­e­tra­ble foliage of my trees, and but a few stray gleams steal into the inner sanc­tu­ary, I throw myself down among the tall grass by the trick­ling stream; and, as I lie close to the earth, a thou­sand unknown plants are noticed by me: when I hear the buzz of the lit­tle world among the stalks, and grow famil­iar with the count­less inde­scrib­able forms of the insects and