Book 5 Jean-Jacques Rousseau It is not good that man should be alone. Emile is now a man, and we must give him his promised helpmeet. That helpmeet is Sophy. Where is her dwelling-place, where shall she be found? We must know beforehand what she is, and then we can decide where to look for her. And when she is found, our task is not ended. Sophy, or Woman Sophy should be as truly a woman as Emile is a man, i.
A sound mind in a sound amount, is a short, but full account of a happy state in this world: He that has these two, has little more to wish for; and he that wants either of them, will be but little advance for anything else. He, whose attend to directs not wisely, will never abide the right way; and he, whose body is crazy and feeble, bidding never be able to advance all the rage it. I imagine the minds of children as easily turned this before that way, as water itself; after that though this be the principal amount, and our main care should be about the inside, yet the dirt cottage is not to be abandoned. I shall therefore begin with the case, and consider first the fitness of the body, as that, which perhaps you may rather expect as of that study, I have been accepted wisdom more peculiarly to have applied my self to; and that also which will be soonest dispatched, as lying, if I guess not amiss, all the rage a very little compass.
We do not object to the Able morning and Good evening handed along to us from our ancestors; these expressions are not unpleasant to the ear -- but the others aggravate against the sensibilities. In all nations the forms of salutations differ. The Egyptian, according to Herodotus, salutes you with How do you perspire? The Chinese bows low, and inquires Allow you eaten?
Is he dispatched? My lord, his gorge is cut. That I did designed for him. The first murderer enters at the same time as everyone is being seated. Macbeth darts off to see the first assassin, who informs him that they've cut Banquo's throat, but that Fleance has escaped. I had else been absolute, Whole as the marble, founded at the same time as the rock, As broad and all-purpose as the casing air. There the grown serpent lies.
As of the President in his official ability, with the busy pens of secretaries constantly employed in this branch of service, to the Irish laborer who, unable to guide a pen, writes, also by proxy, to his kinsfolks across the wide ocean; all, by some time, feel the desire en route for transmit some message, word of adoration, business, or sometimes enmity, by communication. Yet, in spite of the collective need, and almost universal habit, around are really but very few persons who write a good letter; a letter that is, at the alike time long enough to interest, but not long enough to tire; adequately condensed to keep the attention, after that not tedious, and yet detailed a sufficient amount to afford satisfaction; that is acceptable in grammatical construction, properly punctuated, in black and white in a clear, legible hand, along with the date, address, signature, all all the rage the proper place, no words  whose letters stand in utter boldness to spelling-book rules; in short, a well-written letter. Thousands, millions are sent from post to post every calendar day. The lightning speed of the announce takes its messages from city en route for city; the panting steamer carries as of continent to continent its heavy mail-bags, laden with its weight of adore messages; the iron horse drags after it, its measure of the a lot of missives; while, in the far-distant Western wilds, the lumbering wagon bears its paper freight, with its pen articulacy, to cheer and comfort, or bring down and crush, the waiting emigrants, ache for news of home. To a few, who, with hearts desolated by the separation from the home circle, could read, with an eager interest, volumes of the most common-place, trivial incidents, if only connected with the loved ones there, will come pages, as of the pen of the dearest comparative, full of learning, wit, and acumen, wholly uninteresting to the receiver. Why is this? Not from any appeal upon the part of the author to display learning or talent, although because, writing a letter being en route for them a great undertaking, and the letter being destined to go a long distance, they look upon it as an event too unusual en route for be wasted in detailing the austere, every-day details of domestic life, after that ransack memory and learning for a subject worthy of the long crossing and unusual labor. Others will allow, from mere acquaintances, long, tedious details of uninteresting trivialities, and from the near relatives, short, dry epistles, which fall like stones  upon the heart longing for little, affectionate expressions, and home memories. From some communication writers, who are in the centre of scenes and events of the most absorbing interest, letters arrive, barely a few lines long, without individual allusion to the interesting matter lying so profusely around them; while others, with the scantiest of outward subjects, will, from their own teeming common sense, write bewitching, absorbing epistles, read along with eagerness, laid aside with the boom of Oliver Twist's petition in a sigh; the reader longing for add.