In America, we hurry--which is well; but when the day's work is done,
we go on thinking of losses and gains, we plan for the morrow, we even
carry our business cares to bed with us, and toss and worry over them
when we ought to be restoring our racked bodies and brains with sleep.
We burn up our energies with these excitements, and either die early or
drop into a lean and mean old age at a time of life which they call a
man's prime in Europe. When an acre of ground has produced long and well,
we let it lie fallow and rest for a season; we take no man clear across
the continent in the same coach he started in--the coach is stabled somewhere
on the plains and its heated machinery allowed to cool for a few days;
when a razor has seen long service and refuses to hold an edge, the barber
lays it away for a few weeks, and the edge comes back of its own accord.
We bestow thoughtful care upon inanimate objects, but none upon ourselves.
What a robust people, what a nation of thinkers we might be, if we would
only lay ourselves on the shelf occasionally and renew our edges!
Photo courtesy of Dave Thomson
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