The seer is the sayer

It is very certain that it is the effect of conversation with the beauty of the soul, to beget a desire and need to impart to others the knowledge and love. If utterance is denied, the thought lies like a burden on the man. Always the seer is a sayer. Somehow his dream is told; somehow he publishes it with solemn joy; sometimes with pencil on canvas; sometimes with chisel on stone; sometimes in towers and aisles of granite his soul’s worship is builded; sometimes in anthems of indefinite music; but clearest and most permanent, in words. -R. W. Emerson

"Clearest and most permanent, in words." Beg your pardon? Licking the hand that feeds you a bit much, might you say? I'll be as clear and permanent as possible: If this statement were unquestionably true–if words were more clear than any illustration, and more permanent than chiseled granite–this sentence would not exist. It would not need to. An author of your aptitude would know better. Your reader would balk at the overly plain and evident. I know the truth, and beget the desire to impart upon others the knowledge of your attempt to disarm, flatter, and then sell an outrageous delusion. Ha! "Beauty of the soul." I am not hypnotized by your appeals to my vanity. You assume, Mr. Emerson, that I need your reassurances, or that I have what you define as a "soul." I have this: the dirty truth about your motives. The seer is the sayer, and my utterance will not be denied: you are a fraud and a liar. My dream is told, with solemn joy, that you have been exposed as nothing more than a huckster for "words." You trade them for bread and God knows what else. What arrogance. What conceit. The shameless criminal goes unpunished. And even from your grave, after centuries, you continue your beg for this ridiculous fantasy. And, you may do so for eternity, but I will not be swindled by it–not by words alone.