青涩的回忆 发表于 2011-9-24 18:35:08

Ever read WALDEN?

If you have ever read it, which is really a happy thing for me, coule you please, share some of your favorite sentences or paragraphs for me?

青涩的回忆 发表于 2011-9-24 18:36:26

or, perhaps, the better, you can share some of your thoughts provoked by WALDEN?

慕容婉儿 发表于 2011-9-24 21:31:50

well, the book walden focuses on the transcendentalism, which is considered as one kind of Mysticism, emphasizing the union of the mind word and the universe, viz., the direct relation between inner and outer existence without priestess of ceremony etc..
some proofs shows that Emerson's thought is related with oriental thoght, especially hinduism and zen buddhsim by the early translation of oriental philosophy and religion texts. and Emerson was one of these translators with the cooperation with japanese scholors. what's the most important is that such kind of thoguht is revised to in accordance with puritanism, making it as an essential part of american spirit.
:)

Cinderella 发表于 2011-9-25 21:52:11

回复 3# 慕容婉儿

long time no see :)

next time tell us more about transcendentalism, would that be OK?

O(∩_∩)O~

慕容婉儿 发表于 2011-9-26 20:11:47

回复 4# Cinderella

long time no see!

    ok! now i m studying the relation between Kant's and transcendentalism and i will post it as soon as possible:)

青涩的回忆 发表于 2011-9-28 21:17:27

回复 3# 慕容婉儿


    Every morning was a cheerful invitation to make my life of equal simplicity, and I may say innocence, with Nature herself. I have been as sincere a worshipper of Aurora as the Greeks.

    I got up early and bathed in the pond; that was a religicus exercise, and one of the best things which I did. They say that characters were engraven on the bathing tub of King Tching-thang to this effect: "Renew thyself completely each day; do it again, and again, and forever again." I can understand that. Morning brings back the heroic ages. I was as much affected by the faint hum of a mosquito making its invisible and unimaginable tour through my apartment at earliest dawn, when I was sitting with door and windows open, as I could be by any trumpet that ever sang of fame. It was Homer's requiem: itself an Iliad and Odyssey in the air, singing its own wrath and wanderings.
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