Swords and Plowshares/Grand Old Men
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THEY are grand old men whose faces hang on my study wall.
I have done with the old Grecian manly beauty—the flawless marble face, unscarred by thought or struggle or experience.
I want the new tragic beauty of countenance that tells of the conflicts and triumphs of life;
The palimpsest on which we may decipher all that is best in a human history;
The beautiful lines and carves laboriously wrought by persevering love;
The faces on which great souls have been trying for years to stamp themselves, and which grow more beautiful to the end—
Such are the faces of my grand old men.
I have done with the old Grecian manly beauty—the flawless marble face, unscarred by thought or struggle or experience.
I want the new tragic beauty of countenance that tells of the conflicts and triumphs of life;
The palimpsest on which we may decipher all that is best in a human history;
The beautiful lines and carves laboriously wrought by persevering love;
The faces on which great souls have been trying for years to stamp themselves, and which grow more beautiful to the end—
Such are the faces of my grand old men.
Men create themselves—it is only babies that God creates.
A new idea harbored and entertained will remake a man.
A great idea will make little man great; it will write itself upon his blank face and transform its meanness and pettiness.
Let us open our doors to the spirit that made the grand old men.
A new idea harbored and entertained will remake a man.
A great idea will make little man great; it will write itself upon his blank face and transform its meanness and pettiness.
Let us open our doors to the spirit that made the grand old men.