Climb we , therefore , the precipice , and pause a moment on the brink gazing down into that hollow chamber by the deep where we have been what few can be -- sufficient to our own pastime . Yes , say the word outright : self-sufficient to our own happiness . How lonesome looks the recess now , and dreary too , like all other spots where happiness has been ! There lies my shadow in the departing sunshine with its head upon the sea . I will pelt it with pebbles . A hit ! a hit ! I clap my hands in triumph , and see my shadow clapping its unreal hands and claiming the triumph for itself . What a simpleton must I have been all day , since my own shadow makes a mock of my fooleries ! Homeward ! homeward ! It is time to hasten home . It is time -- it is time ; for as the sun sinks over the western wave the sea grows melancholy and the surf has a saddened tone . The distant sails appear astray and not of earth in their remoteness amid the desolate waste . My spirit wanders forth afar , but finds no resting-place and comes shivering back . It is time that I were hence . But grudge me not the day that has been spent in seclusion which yet was not solitude , since the great sea has been my companion , and the little sea-birds my friends , and the wind has told me his secrets , and airy shapes have flitted around me in my hermitage . Such companionship works an effect upon a man 's character as if he had been admitted to the society of creatures that are not mortal . And when , at noontide , I tread the crowded streets , the influence of this day will still be felt ; so that I shall walk among men kindly and as a brother , with affection and sympathy , but yet shall not melt into the indistinguishable mass of humankind . I shall think my own thoughts and feel my own emotions and possess my individuality unviolated .
But it is good at the eve of such a XXXXX to feel and know that there are men and women in the world .
day fooleries hermitage humankind noontide resting-place sea sea-birds solitude sympathy