I am grown by sympathy a little eager and sentimental, but leave me alone, and I should relish every hour and what it brought me, the pot-luck of the day, as heartily as the oldest gossip in the bar-room.
Interpretation
The quote reflects on the importance of appreciating life's moments, whether they bring joy or challenge.
In this quote, Emerson expresses a sentiment about the richness of experience and the human condition. He suggests that while he may be influenced by sympathy and sentimentality, he thrives when left to engage with life on his own terms, savoring each moment for what it brings. The metaphor of 'the pot-luck of the day' implies a diversity of experiences, and he emphasizes a sincere enjoyment of life, much like the casual camaraderie found in a social setting like a bar-room.
In practice
This quote could inspire a speech at a life celebration event.
It is plain that there is no separate essence called courage, no cup or cell in the brain, no vessel in the heart containing drops or atoms that make or give this virtue; but it is the right or healthy state of every man, when he is free to do that which is constitutional to him to do.
Few people have any next, they live from hand to mouth without a plan, and are always at the end of their line.
Men cease to interest us when we find their limitations
Tis the good reader that makes the good book; a good head cannot read amiss: in every book he finds passages which seem confidences or asides hidden from all else and unmistakeably meant for his ear.
The world belongs to the energetic.
Hast thou named all the birds without a gun?
Life is short. From here to that old car you know so well there is a stretch of twenty, twenty-five paces. It is a very short walk. Make those twenty-five steps. Now. Right now. Come just as you are. And we shall live happily ever after.
So you can't dance? Not at all? Not even one step? How can you say that you've taken any trouble to live when you won't even dance?
There is something about safari life that makes you forget all your sorrows and feel as if you had drunk half a bottle of champagne — bubbling over with heartfelt gratitude for being alive.
One makes mistakes; that is life. But it is never a mistake to have loved.
Because I grew up in such tight spaces, I don't get manicures, pedicures. I'm not into cars, but I am into a fabulous house. I wanted the spiral staircase, clean sheets on the bed, to be able to take a shower.
After my husband died, I could not write much - I could not concentrate. I was too exhausted most of the time even to contemplate writing. But I did take notes - not for fiction, but for a journal, or diary, of this terrible time. I did not think that I would ever survive this interlude.
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