tever is greatest in writing their aim, thought it
beneath them to be exact in every detail? Among many others especially
this, that it was not in nature's plan for us her chosen children to be
creatures base and ignoble,--no, she brought us into life, and into the
whole universe, as into some great field of contest, that we should be
at once spectators and ambitious rivals of her mighty deeds, and from
the first implanted in our souls an invincible yearning for all that is
great, all that is diviner than ourselves.

3
Therefore even the whole world is not wide enough for the soaring range
of human thought, but man's mind often overleaps the very bounds of
space.[1] When we survey the whole circle of life, and see it abounding
everywhere in what is elegant, grand, and beautiful, we learn at once
what is the true end of man's being.

[Footnote 1: Comp. Lucretius on Epicurus: "Ergo vivida vis animi
pervicit, et extra Processit longe flammantia moenia mundi," etc.]

4
And this is why nature prompts us to admire, not the clearness and
usefulness of a little stream, but the Nile, the Danube, the Rhine, and
far beyond all the Ocean; not to turn our wandering eyes from the
heavenly fires, though often darkened, to the little flame kindled by
human hands, however pure and steady its light; not to think that tiny
lamp more wondrous than the caverns of Aetna, from whose raging depths
are hurled up stones and whole masses of rock, and torrents sometimes
come pouring from earth's centre of pure and living fire.

To sum the whole: whatever is useful or needful lies easily within man's
reach; but he keeps his homage for what is astounding.

XXXVI

How much more do these principles apply to the Sublime in literature,
where grandeur is never, as it sometimes is in nature, dissociated from
utility and advantage. Therefore all those who have achieved it, however
far from faultless, are still more than mortal. When a writer uses any
other resource he shows himself to be a man; but the Sublime lifts him
near to the great spirit of the Deity. He who makes no slips must be
satisfied with negative approbation, but he who is sublime commands
positive reverence.

2
Why need I add that each one of those great writers often redeems all
his errors by one grand and masterly stroke? But the strongest point of
all is that, if you were to pick out all the blunders of Homer,
Demosthenes, Plato, and all the greatest names in literatu