OF THE FLIES OF THE MARKET
" Fly, my friend, into thy loneliness ! I see thee stunned by the noise of the great men and pierced by the stings of the small.
With thee forest and rock know how to be fitly silent. Be like the tree again which thou lovest, the tree with broad boughs : still and listening it hangeth over the sea.
Where loneliness ceaseth, the market beginneth, and where the market beginneth, there begin also the noise of the great actors and the buzzing of the poisonous flies.
In the world even the best things are useless with- out somebody to show them : great men are these showmen called by the folk.
The folk little understand what is great, i.e., what createth. But they have eyes and ears for all show- men and actors of great things.
The world revolveth round the inventors of new values : invisibly it revolveth. But the folk and glory revolve round actors : such is life.
The actor hath spirit ; but little conscience of spirit. He always believeth in that by which he maketh others believe most, i.e., to believe in himself/
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