To ply Socrates’ trade by proving to them that they know nothing, a source of enmities.
May 25.
Plutarch (in his morals). This mind dyed with the purple of others,
Plato. Shining with his own light. (Sydus, a mind of flame by its nature, and not merely illuminated).
May 26.
That as the parts, the thoughts etc. that ought to be in a work arrive in it and arrange themselves better, words become more indifferent in it, are less important and seem to occupy less space. The author pays less heed to them. As long as he is so occupied with words, it is because he has not yet found his thing, or his turn.
May 31.
Chateaubriand has too little art, but an inexhaustible naturalness.
The faults—cold, insipid, languishing—of our old writers who sought to purify the language were those that most struck the critics of the time. (One still sees it in Boileau.) Our moderns have long sinned by the opposite excess.
To have an attention so firm that it sees ideas as though they were things, and in the way the eyes see the realities that stand before them as objects and paint themselves on their retina.
June 2.
What one writes with difficulty is written with greater care, engraves itself better.
All prose (of a certain kind, of a certain perfection) seems to be a translation of certain ancient verses.
June 3.
All these repeated words resemble blows one redoubles because one has not struck the blow that would be decisive.
One must (perhaps) cast seeds (only) into minds, not plant dead trees and full-grown plants in them.
Always to associate a new idea or expression with a common idea, expression or turn.
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The Notebooks of Joseph Joubert, Volume I · Book Mode · Diotimos