“ The sweet of nature is love; yet, if I have a friend, I am tormented by my imperfections. ”
Ralph Waldo Emerson, Circles (1841). copy citation
| Author | Ralph Waldo Emerson |
|---|---|
| Source | Circles |
| Topic | imperfection love |
| Date | 1841 |
| Language | English |
| Reference | in "Essays: First Series" |
| Note | |
| Weblink | https://en.wikisource.org/wiki/Essays:_First_Series/Circles |
Context
“I am a weed by the wall.
The continual effort to raise himself above himself, to work a pitch above his last height, betrays itself in a man's relations. We thirst for approbation, yet cannot forgive the approver. The sweet of nature is love; yet, if I have a friend, I am tormented by my imperfections. The love of me accuses the other party. If he were high enough to slight me, then could I love him, and rise by my affection to new heights. A man's growth is seen in the successive choirs of his friends.”
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