To the men of this world, to the animal strength and spirits, to the men of practical power whilst immersed in it, the man of ideas appears out of his reason. They alone have reason. Thus the men of senses revenge themselves on the professors, and repay scorn for scorn. The world is always ready to receive talent with open arms. Very often it does not know what to do with genius.
Talent is a docile creature.
It bows its head meekly while the world slips the collar over it. It backs into the shafts like a lamb. It draws its load cheerfully, and is patient of the bit and of the whip. Talent seems, at first, in one sense, higher than genius - namely, that is it is more uniformly and absolutely submitted to the will, and therefore more distinctly human in its character. Genius, on the other hand, is much more like those instincts which govern the admirable movements of the lower creatures, and therefore seems to have something of the lower or animal character.