Summary

Portrait of Theodore Winthrop Theodore Winthrop Cecil Dreeme — Chapter XVII. A Morning with Cecil Dreeme (1864)

If I preferred to live in the Past, I had only to shut myself up at home, and forget that eager Present about me, — that stirring life of America, urged on by the spirit of the Past, and unburdened by its matter.
Romance, too! Romance had come to me, whether I would or no. Without any permission of mine, asked or granted, I was become an actor, with my special part to play, perforce, among mysteries.
Cecil Dreeme.
Emma Denman.
Densdeth.
My connection with these three characters grew daily closer. I do not love mystery. Ignorance I do not hate; for ignorance is the first condition of knowledge.
Source: Wikisource

Portrait of Theodore Winthrop Theodore Winthrop Cecil Dreeme — Chapter XVII. A Morning with Cecil Dreeme (1864)

Churm only waited to establish me, and then was off, north, south, east, and west. It was one of those epochs when mankind is in a slough of despond, and must have a lift from Hercules. It was a time when society, that drowsy Diogenes, was beginning to bestir itself after a careless slumber, and, holding up the great lantern of public opinion to find honest men, suddenly revealed a mighty army of rogues. Rogues everywhere; scurvy rogues in mean places, showy rogues in high places; rogues cheating for cents in cheap shops, rogues defrauding for millions in splendid bank parlors
Source: Wikisource

Portrait of Theodore Winthrop Theodore Winthrop Cecil Dreeme — Chapter XVII. A Morning with Cecil Dreeme (1864)

I had made up my mind to drop into systematic existence, cut fancy, eschew romance, banish dreams, and occupy my digestion solely on a diet of commonplace facts.
I might have known that man cannot live on corporeal, mundane facts alone, unless he can persuade his immortality to forget him, and leave him to crawl a mere earth-worm, dirt to dirt, until he is dust to dust.
Source: Wikisource

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