the same sentence and tumbling into the inevitable pit which the creation of new thought opens for all that is old.  The new continents are built out of the ruins of an old planet; the new races fed out of the decomposition of the foregoing.  New arts destroy the old.[695] See the investment of capital in aqueducts, made useless by hydraulics; fortifications, by gunpowder; roads and canals, by railways; sails, by steam; steam, by electricity.

You admire this tower of granite, weathering the hurts of so many ages.  Yet a little waving hand built this huge wall, and that which builds is better than that which is built.  The hand that built can topple it down much faster.  Better than the hand and nimbler was the invisible thought which wrought through it; and thus ever, behind the coarse effect, is a fine cause, which, being narrowly seen, is itself the effect of a finer cause.  Everything looks permanent until its secret is known.  A rich estate appears to women and children a firm and lasting fact; to a merchant, one easily created out of any materials, and easily lost.  An orchard, good tillage, good grounds, seem a fixture, like a gold mine, or a river, to a citizen; but to a large farmer, not much more fixed than the state of the crop.  Nature looks provokingly stable and secular, but it has a cause like all the rest; and when once I comprehend that, will these fields stretch so immovably wide, these leaves hang so individually considerable?  Permanence is a word of degrees.  Every thing is medial.  Moons are no more bounds to spiritual power than bat-balls.

The key to every man is his thought.  Sturdy and defying though he look, he has a helm which he obeys, which is the idea after which all his facts are classified.  He can only be reformed by showing him a new idea which commands his own.  The life of man is a self-evolving circle,[696] which, from a ring imperceptibly small, rushes on all sides outwards to new and larger circles, and that without end.  The extent to which this generation of circles, wheel without wheel, will go, depends on the force or truth of the individual soul.  For it is the inert effort of each thought, having formed itself into a circular wave of circumstance, as for instance an empire, rules of an art, a local usage, a religious rite, to heap itself on that ridge and to solidify and hem in the life.  But if the soul is quick and strong it bursts over that boundary on all sides and expands another orbit on the great deep, which also runs up into a high wave, with attempt again to stop and to bind.  But the heart refuses to be imprisoned;[697] in its first and narrowest pulses it already tends outward with a vast force and to immense and innumerable expansions.