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In brief, this means that whilst in all our genius that we transform into our artistic creations we can become so complex in wonder that we lose ourselves and what the whole point was in the first place. Through the ability to expand ever further on this complexity - means we exponential complexity growth which allows for functional outcomes of the amassed pathways of creative data. The important thing to remember - the balance between gathering data (copying from web references) to creating original content (whether inspired or independent)
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The recent appearance of some half dozen editions—some of them very beautiful in typography and pictorial illustrations—of The Proverbial Philosophy of
Mr. Martin Farquhar Tupper, reminds us of the observation of Dana, that something “resembling poetry” is oftentimes borne into instant and turbulent
popularity, while a work of genuine character may be lying neglected by all except the poets. But “the tide of time,” says the profound essayist,
“flows on, and the former begins to settle to the bottom, while the latter rises slowly and steadily to the surface, and goes forward, for a spirit is in it.”
We are not without the hope that Richard H. Dana will one day be in as frequent demand as Martin Farquhar Tupper is now.
The merits of this “gentleman of acknowledged genius and sovereign popularity,” we have never been able to discover. If oddity were always originality,
if quaintness and beauty were synonymous, if paradox were necessarily wisdom, we should be ready to grant that Mr. Tupper is a wise, beautiful
and original thinker. But thought, after all, is an affair of mind, and though a man of genius may write what is far more brilliant than common sense ever is,
yet no man can utter valuable truth on mortal and prudential subjects, unless he possesses a vigorous and powerful understanding. Now Mr. Tupper’s art
consists in contriving, not thought, but things that look like thoughts; fancies, in imitation of truths. The Proverbial Philosophy, in fact, appears to us
one of the most curious impositions we have ever met with. When you first read one of the aphorisms, it strikes you as a sentiment of extraordinary wisdom.
But look more closely at it; try to apply it; and you will find that it is merely a trick of words. What flashed upon you as a profound distinction in morals,
turns out to be nothing but a verbal antithesis. What was paraded, as a kind of transcendental analogy between things not before suspected of resemblance,
discovered by the “spiritual insight” of the moral seer, is in fact no more than a grave clench,—a solemn quibble,—a conceit; arising not
from the perfection of mind, but the imperfection of language. Those conceptions, fabricated by Fancy out of the materials that Fancy deals in, and colored
by the rays of a poetic sentiment, wear the same relation to truths, that the prismatic hues of the spray of a fountain in the sunshine bear to the gems which
it perhaps outshines. It dazzles and delights, but if we try to apprehend it we become bewildered; and finally discover that we were deceived by a
brilliant phantom of air. You may admire Mr. Tupper; you may enjoy him; but you cannot understand him: the staple of his sentences is not stuff of the
understanding. Take one of Mr. Tupper’s and one of Lord Bacon’s aphorisms; they flash with an equal bravery. But try them upon the glassy surface of life.
Bacon’s cut it as if it were air: Tupper’s turn into a little drop of dirty water. One was a diamond, the other but an icicle; one was the commonest liquor
artificially refrigerated; the other was a crystal in form, but in its substance the pure carbon of truth. If these bright delusions which Mr. Tupper turns
out to the wonder and praise of his admirers, were really thoughts, is it to be supposed that he would go on in this way, stringing them together, or evolving
one out of the other, as a spider weaves its unending line, or as a boy blows soap bubbles from the nose of a tobacco pipe? Fancies, conceits,
intellectual phantoms, may be engendered out of the mind, brooding in self-creation upon its own suggestions: but truth is to be mined from Nature, to be
wrung from experience, to be seized as the victor’s trophy on the battlefield of action and suffering. The flowers of poetry may bud spontaneously around
the meditative spirit of genius, but the harvest of Truth, though, to be reaped by mind, must grow out of Reality.[[1]]
Of this we know - of every Utterance of Proverbial Philosophy We Will Understand - We Fathom far beyond the mere mortal man and thus together we do stand. Our current Main Project here at the Disambiguation Department besides our own Undertakings is the Complete Disambiguation of Martin Farquhar Tupper's Proverbial Philosophy. If you also understand this surprisingly little known work. Please contact the Department immediately. If you wish to know more you can start at Wikipedias Martin F. Tupper page whereupon you will also as of 12:11:18:06:2010 see that no one in the entirety of planet earth has anything to say on wikipedia of the work itself so much in as making a page dedicated to it. Surprising 'ey? So may we as the world make Love to God! Finally again after so much time alone o vast uncreated pages of Wikipedia! May we learn to be writers, editors, poets, historians - May we be scientists and artisans until such a time as no one cared for what our jobs were and there is no more need for Proverbial Philosophy!