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Hawthorne, Nathaniel, 1804-1864

"Passages from the French and Italian Notebooks, Complete"

I am
writing nonsense, but it is because no sense within my mind will answer
the purpose.
Some of these mountains, that looked at no such mighty distance, were at
least forty or fifty miles off, and appeared as if they were near
neighbors and friends of other mountains, from which they were really
still farther removed. The relations into which distant points are
brought, in a view of mountain scenery, symbolize the truth which we can
never judge within our partial scope of vision, of the relations which we
bear to our fellow-creatures and human circumstances. These mighty
mountains think that they have nothing to do with one another, each seems
itself its own centre, and existing for itself alone; and yet to an eye
that can take them all in, they are evidently portions of one grand and
beautiful idea, which could not be consummated without the lowest and the
loftiest of them. I do not express this satisfactorily, but have a
genuine meaning in it nevertheless.
We passed again by Chillon, and gazed at it as long as it was distinctly
visible, though the water view does no justice to its real
picturesqueness, there being no towers nor projections on the side
towards the lake, nothing but a wall of dingy white, with an indentation
that looks something like a gateway.


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