Thoreau
Journal;
Peaches are unquestionably a very beautiful fruit, but the gathering of them for the market is not nearly so interesting as the gathering of huckleberries for your own use.
How fitting to have every day in a vase of water on your table the wildflowers of the season which are just blossoming!
I know of no object more unsightly to a careless glance than an empty thistle-head, yet, if you examine it closely, it may remind you of the silk-lined cradle in which a prince was rocked.
The great green acorns in broad, shallow cups. How attractive these forms! No wonder they are limited on pumps, fence and bed posts.
How did these beautiful rainbow tints get into the shell of the fresh-water clam buried in the mud at the bottom of our dark river? Even the sea-bottom tells of the upper skies.
Nothing is so sure to make itself known as the truth, for what else waits to be known?
I would rather never taste chickens` meat nor hens` eggs than never to see a hawk sailing through the upper air again.
The hooting of the owl! That sound which my red predecessors heard here more than a thousand years ago. It rings far and wide, occupying the spaces rightfully,- grand, primeval, aboriginal sound.
The poet must continually be watching the moods of his mind, as the astronomer watches the aspects of heavens.
The poet is a man who lives at last by watching his moods. An old poet comes at last to watch his moods as narrowly as a cat does a mouse.
In company, that person who alone can understand you you cannot get out of your mind.
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Nothing makes the earth seem so spacious as to have friends at a distance; they make the latitudes and longitutes.
Thoreau
Familiar Letters
As the thought precedes
the act I would try
to journal back to
Henry David Thoreau and you