In the fish family there are two classes, the kind that lives in schools, like the mackerel, and the kind that lives by itself, like the whale.
When first the savage drew a rude picture of a fish on his hut it was a whale, and not a mackerel.
We do not find the mackerel's picture excepting at the fish dealers and on the menu, and then only because the mackerel is good to eat.
Among trees the one that attains great proportions and beautiful symmetry is yonder giant oak or elm that grows in the open. It needs room to breathe and grow. It grows better if it is segregated from the crowded forest. The giant tree is not the one that grows in the dense forest.
There are two kinds of men, the kind that lives in the herd and the kind that has strong individuality that needs room to grow. The herd man exists in infinitely greater numbers than the individual man.
We cannot imagine Lincoln, Bismarck, Webster, Clay, Edison or Burbank living in the herd, or spending their time in the boulevard cafes.
The man who lives in a herd, who is ever present where the lights are bright, where gaiety abounds, where excitement reigns, where feasting is present, soon gets himself into the habit of cultivating this excitement. He is never happy when alone.
The brain never sleeps and something must occupy it. The herd man fills his brain with frivolous things, he seeks constant excitement. He is like the plant always in the sun, he burns himself out.
The great man with the individuality is great because he has always spent plenty of tune by himself, sizing up things in solitude. Sizing up things makes the brain grow and makes it stronger.
The universities of this country tend in a great measure to produce the herd man. The students dress alike. All have the same mannerisms, all have the same tilt to their hats, and all the same turned up trousers. They feed at certain restaurants and crowd in flocks. Very few college men learn the benefits of sizing up things in solitude until in after years.