OP
 
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 SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. With Bibliography. 
 
 i8mo, $1.00. 
 THE SUCCESSION OF FOREST TREES AND WILD 
 
 APPLES. With Biographical Sketch by EMKRSON. 
 
 i6mo, paper, 15 cents. 
 
 HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY. 
 
 BOSTON AND NEW YORK.
 
 THOREAU S THOUGHTS 
 
 SELECTIONS FROM THE WRITINGS 
 OF HENRY DAVID THOREAU 
 
 EDITED BY 
 
 H. G. O. BLAKE 
 
 We shall one day see that the most private is the most public 
 energy, that quality atones for quantity, and grandeur of character 
 acts in the dark, and succors them who never saw it. 
 
 EMERSON 
 
 BOSTON AND NEW YORK 
 HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY 
 
 1890
 
 Copyright, 1890, 
 BY H. G. O. BLAKE. 
 
 All rights reserved. 
 
 The Riverside Press, Cambridge, Mass., U. S. A. 
 Electrotyped and Printed by H. O. Houghton & Company.
 
 INTRODUCTORY. 
 
 IN selecting the following passages from 
 Thoreau s printed works, for the use of 
 those who are already interested in him, 
 and to win, if possible, new admirers of 
 what has given me so pure and unfailing a 
 satisfaction for now more than forty years, 
 I desired to make a pocket volume, contain 
 ing beautiful and helpful thoughts, which 
 one might not only read in retirement, but 
 use as a traveling companion, or vade me- 
 ciim, while waiting at a hotel, railway sta 
 tion, or elsewhere, something even more 
 convenient and ready at hand than the 
 newspaper. I would furnish an antidote 
 to the dissipating, depressing influence of 
 too much newspaper reading, something 
 which instead of filling the mind with gos-
 
 IV INTRODUCTORY. 
 
 sip, political strife and misstatement, ath 
 letics, pugilism, accounts of shocking acci 
 dents, and every kind of criminality, may 
 refresh us with a new sense of the beauty 
 of the world, and make us feel how truly 
 life is worth living. 
 
 " O world as God has made it, all is beauty ; 
 And knowing this is love, and love is duty." 
 
 The truth expressed in these lines of 
 Browning, which seems to me the highest 
 wisdom, and so the essence of religion, was 
 no transient dream with Thoreau, but a 
 deep conviction which took possession of 
 him early in life, never to be relinquished, 
 and which he resolved as far as possible 
 to realize, in spite of the false usages and 
 allurements of the world as man has 
 made it. Though, faithful to his idea, he 
 felt obliged to stand somewhat apart from 
 the society about him, yet his strong and 
 active interest in the anti-slavery move 
 ment, and his instant appreciation and 
 public defense of Captain John Brown, 
 show clearly how sensitive he was to the
 
 INTRODUCTORY. V 
 
 tie of humanity. It is the close alliance 
 or unity of Thoreau s genius and personal 
 character which gives such power to his 
 words for the purpose I have in view, 
 namely, to awaken or revive our interest 
 in the worthiest things, to lift us above the 
 world of care and sadness into that fairer 
 world which is always waiting to receive us. 
 I would express here my obligations to 
 Dr. Samuel A. Jones, of Ann Arbor, Mi 
 chigan, for the free use of his " Biblio 
 graphy," which has been with him indeed 
 a labor of love, and which, I am sure, will 
 add much to the value and attractiveness 
 of this volume. 
 
 THE EDITOR.
 
 SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. 
 
 The best kind Reading, in a high sense, is not 
 
 of reading. that wh j ch J^g us as a \ uxur y 
 
 and suffers the nobler faculties to sleep the 
 while, but what we have to stand on tiptoe 
 to read and devote our most alert and 
 
 Wakeful hours tO. WALDEN, p. .13. 
 
 society in ^ nave never felt lonesome, or 
 in the least oppressed by a sense 
 of solitude, but once, and that was a few 
 weeks after I came to the woods, when, for 
 an hour, I doubted if the near neighbor 
 hood of man was not essential to a serene 
 and healthy life. To be alone was some 
 thing unpleasant. But I was at the same 
 time conscious of a slight insanity in my 
 mood, and seemed to foresee my recovery. 
 In the midst of a gentle rain, while these 
 thoughts prevailed, I was suddenly sensi 
 ble of such sweet and beneficent society 
 in Nature, in the very pattering of the
 
 2 SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. 
 
 drops, and in every sound and sight around 
 my house, an infinite and unaccountable 
 friendliness all at once like an atmosphere 
 sustaining me, as made the fancied advan 
 tages of human neighborhood insignificant, 
 and I have never thought of them since. 
 Every little pine needle expanded and 
 swelled with sympathy and befriended me. 
 I was so distinctly made aware of the pres 
 ence of something kindred to me, even in 
 scenes which we are accustomed to call 
 wild and dreary, and also that the nearest 
 of blood to me and humanest was not a 
 person nor a villager, that I thought no 
 place could ever be strange to me again. 
 
 WALDKN, p. 143. 
 
 The best What sort of space is that which 
 
 neighbor- - 
 
 hood. separates a man from his fellows 
 
 and makes him solitary ? I have found that 
 no exertion of the legs can bring two minds 
 much nearer to one another. What do we 
 want most to dwell near to ? Not to 
 many men surely, the depot, the post-of 
 fice, the bar-room, the meeting-house, the 
 school-house, the grocery, Beacon Hill, or 
 the Five Points, where men most congre 
 gate, but to the perennial source of our
 
 SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. 3 
 
 life, whence in all our experience we have 
 found that to issue, as the willow stands 
 near the water and sends out its roots in 
 that direction. This will vary with differ 
 ent natures, but this is the place where a 
 wise man will dig his cellar. WALDEN, P 144. 
 
 our nearest An Y prospect of awakening or 
 coming to life to a dead man 
 makes indifferent all times and places. 
 The place where that may occur is always 
 the same, and indescribably pleasant to 
 all our senses. For the most part we al 
 low only outlying and transient circum 
 stances to make our occasions. They are, 
 in fact, the cause of our distraction. Near 
 est to all things is that power which fash 
 ions their being. Next to us the grandest 
 laws are continually being executed. Next 
 to us is not the workman whom we have 
 hired, with whom we love so well to talk, 
 but the workman whose work we are. 
 
 WALDEN, p. 145. 
 
 our double However intense my experi 
 ence, I am conscious of the pres 
 ence and criticism of a part of me, which, 
 as it were, is not a part of me, but specta-
 
 4 SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. 
 
 tor, sharing no experience, but taking note 
 of it ; and that is no more I than it is you. 
 When the play, it may be the tragedy, of 
 life is over, the spectator goes his way. It 
 was a kind of fiction, a work of the imagi 
 nation only, so far as he was concerned. 
 This doubleness may easily make us poor 
 neighbors and friends sometimes. 
 
 WALDEN, p. 146. 
 
 The most I never found the companion 
 com s panbn y - that was so companionable as 
 shlp solitude. We are for the most 
 
 part more lonely when we go abroad among 
 men than when we stay in our chambers. 
 
 WALDK.V, p. 147. 
 
 TOO much Society is commonly too cheap. 
 
 shallow 
 
 intercourse. We meet at very short inter 
 vals, not having had time to acquire any 
 new value for each other. We live thick 
 and are in each other s way, and stumble 
 over one another, and I think that we thus 
 lose some respect for one another. Cer 
 tainly less frequency would suffice for all 
 important and hearty communications. 
 The value of a man is not in his skin, that 
 
 We Should tOUCh him. WALDEN, p. 147.
 
 SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. 5 
 
 The value of T have a g reat deal of company 
 in my house ; especially in the 
 morning, when nobody calls. I am no 
 more lonely than the loon in the pond that 
 laughs so loud, or than Walden Pond itself. 
 What company has that lonely lake, I 
 pray ? And yet it has not the blue devils, 
 but the blue angels in it, in the azure tint 
 of its waters. God is alone, but the 
 devil, he is far from being alone ; he sees a 
 great deal of company ; he is legion. 
 
 WALDEN, p. 148. 
 
 Sympathy of The indescribable innocence 
 Sm^ and beneficence of Nature, of 
 sun and wind and rain, of sum 
 mer and winter, such health, such cheer, 
 they afford forever ! and such sympathy 
 have they ever with our race, that all Na 
 ture would be affected, and the sun s 
 brightness fade, and the winds would sigh 
 humanely, and the clouds rain tears, and 
 the woods shed their leaves and put on 
 mourning in midsummer, if any man should 
 ever for a just cause grieve. Shall I not 
 have intelligence with the earth ? Am I 
 
 not partly leaves and vegetable mould my- 
 WALDEN, p. 149.
 
 6 SELECTIONS FROAI THOREAU. 
 
 Hebepre- I am no worshiper of Hygeia, 
 Hygeia. who was the dauhter of that old 
 
 
 herb - doctor ^Esculapius, but rather of 
 Hebe, cupbearer to Jupiter, who was the 
 daughter of Juno and wild lettuce, and who 
 had the power of restoring gods and men 
 to the vigor of youth. She was probably 
 the only thoroughly sound - conditioned, 
 healthy, and robust young lady that ever 
 walked the globe, and wherever she came, 
 
 it Was Spring. WALDEN, p. 150. 
 
 Animal food It is hard to provide and cook 
 
 offends the . . . . , 
 
 imagination, so simple and clean a diet as will 
 not offend the imagination ; but this, I 
 think, is to be fed when we feed the body ; 
 they should both sit down at the same ta 
 ble. It may be vain to ask why the imagi 
 nation will not be reconciled to flesh and 
 fat. I am satisfied that it is not. What 
 ever my own practice may be, I have no 
 doubt that it is a part of the destiny of the 
 human race, in its gradual improvement, 
 to leave off eating animals, as surely as 
 the savage tribes have left off eating each 
 other when they came in contact with the 
 
 more Civilized. WALDBN, P . 232.
 
 SELECTIONS FROM THOKEAU. 7 
 
 The faintest assured objection 
 
 intima- wn ich one healthy man feels will 
 
 The slight 
 est inti 
 tions of 
 
 one^-s genius ^ length prevail over the argu- 
 regarded. men t s and customs of mankind. 
 No man ever followed his genius till it 
 misled him. Though the result were bodily 
 weakness, yet perhaps no one can say that 
 the consequences were to be regretted, for 
 these were a life in conformity to higher 
 principles. If the day and the night are 
 such that you greet them with joy, and life 
 emits a fragrance like flowers and sweet- 
 scented herbs, is more elastic, more starry, 
 more immortal, that is your success. 
 All nature is your congratulation, and you 
 have cause momentarily to bless yourself. 
 The greatest gains and values are farthest 
 from being appreciated. We easily come 
 to doubt if they exist. We soon forget 
 them. They are the highest reality. Per 
 haps the facts most astounding and most 
 real are never communicated by man to 
 man. The true harvest of my daily life 
 is somewhat as intangible and indescrib 
 able as the tints of morning or evening. 
 It is a little star-dust caught, a segment of 
 the rainbow which I have clutched. 
 
 WALDEN, p. 233.
 
 8 SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. 
 
 inspiration Who has not sometimes derived 
 palate. an inexpressible satisfaction from 
 his food in which appetite had no share ? 
 I have been thrilled to think that I owed 
 a mental perception to the commonly gross 
 sense of taste, that I have been inspired 
 through the palate, that some berries which 
 I had eaten on a hill-side had fed my ge 
 nius. WALDEN, p. 234- 
 
 The quality He who distinguishes the true 
 
 of the appe- , . . , , , 
 
 the makes savor oi his food can never be a 
 
 the sensual- , 
 
 ist. glutton ; he who does not can 
 
 not be otherwise. A puritan may go to 
 his brown -bread crust with as gross an 
 appetite as ever an alderman to his turtle. 
 Not that food which entereth into the 
 mouth defileth a man, but the appetite 
 with which it is eaten ; it is neither the 
 quantity nor the quality, but the devotion 
 
 tO SenSUal SaVOrS. WALDEN, p. 235- 
 
 The moral Our whole life is startlingly 
 rSald moral. There is never an in 
 stant s truce between virtue and 
 vice. Goodness is the only investment 
 that never fails. In the music of the 
 harp that trembles round the world it is
 
 SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. 9 
 
 the insisting on this which thrills us. 
 Though the youth at last grows indifferent, 
 the laws of the universe are not indiffer 
 ent, but are forever on the side of the 
 most sensitive. Listen to every zephyr 
 for some reproof, for it is surely there, and 
 he is unfortunate who does not hear it. 
 We cannot touch a string or move a stop 
 but the charming moral transfixes us. 
 Many an irksome noise, go a long way off, 
 is heard as music, a proud sweet satire on 
 the meanness of our lives. WALDKN, p. 235. 
 
 Delicacy of " That in which men differ from 
 
 the distinc- 1111 
 
 tion between brute beasts, says Mencius, " is 
 
 men and . .... 
 
 beasts. a thing very inconsiderable ; the 
 common herd lose it very soon ; superior 
 men preserve it carefully." WALDEN, P . 23 6. 
 
 Purity in- Chastity is the flowering of 
 
 spires the 
 
 soui. man ; and what are called Genius, 
 
 Heroism, Holiness, and the like, are but 
 various fruits which succeed it. Man flows 
 at once to God when the channel of purity 
 is open. By turns our purity inspires and 
 our impurity casts us down. He is blessed 
 who is assured that the animal is dying 
 out in him day by day, and the divine being 
 
 established. WALDEN, p. 236.
 
 IO SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. 
 
 Purity and A11 sensuality is one, though it 
 eachTsin- takes many forms; all purity is 
 
 gle thing. 
 
 man eat, or drink, or sleep sensually. 
 They are but one appetite, and we only 
 need to see a person do any one of these 
 things to know how great a sensualist he is. 
 The impure can neither stand nor sit with 
 purity. When the reptile is attacked at 
 one mouth of his burrow, he shows himself 
 at another. WALDEN, P . 237 - 
 
 work a help ^ Y ou w uld avoid uncleanness, 
 agamst sm. an j a jj ^g s [ nS) wor k earnestly, 
 
 though it be at cleaning a stable. Nature 
 is hard to be overcome, but she must be 
 
 Overcome. WALDEN, p. 237. 
 
 Everyone Every man is the builder of a 
 a scuW. temple, called his body, to the 
 god he worships, after a style purely his 
 own, nor can he get off by hammering 
 marble instead. We are all sculptors and 
 painters, and our material is our own flesh 
 and blood and bones. Any nobleness be 
 gins at once to refine a man s features, any 
 meanness or sensuality to imbrute them. 
 
 WALDEN, p. 238.
 
 SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. II 
 A V ice Said t 
 
 Thepurifica- 
 
 loui gives it mer], Why do you stay here 
 a new hfe. an ^ j- ye ^is mean moiling life, 
 
 when a glorious existence is possible for 
 you ? Those same stars twinkle over other 
 fields than these. But how to come out 
 of this condition and actually migrate 
 thither ? All he could think of was to 
 practice some new austerity, to let his 
 mind descend into his body and redeem 
 it, and treat himself with ever increasing 
 
 respect. WALDEN, p. 239. 
 
 strike at the There are a thousand hacking 
 
 root of social .... , 
 
 nis by pun- at the branches ot evil to one who 
 owiThfe. is striking at the root, and it may 
 be that he who bestows the largest amount 
 of time and money on the needy is doing 
 the most by his mode of life to produce 
 that misery which he strives in vain to re 
 lieve. It is the pious slave-breeder devot 
 ing the proceeds of every tenth slave to 
 buy a Sunday s liberty for the rest. Some 
 show their kindness to the poor by em 
 ploying them in their kitchens. Would 
 they not be kinder if they employed them 
 
 selves there ? WALDEN, p. 83.
 
 12 SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. 
 
 Overflowing I do not value chiefly a man s 
 charity 6 uprightness and benevolence, 
 rmuhitude 3 which are, as it were, his stem 
 and leaves. Those plants of whose 
 greenness withered we make herb tea for 
 the sick serve but a humble use, and are 
 most employed by quacks. I want the 
 flower and fruit of a man ; that some fra 
 grance be wafted over from him to me, and 
 some ripeness flavor our intercourse. His 
 goodness must not be a partial and transi 
 tory act, but a constant superfluity, which 
 costs him nothing and of which he is un 
 conscious. This is a charity that hides a 
 
 multitude Of Sins. WALDKN, P . 83. 
 
 what sad- I believe that what so saddens 
 reformer. the reformer is not his sympathy 
 with his fellows in distress, but, though he 
 be the holiest son of God, is his private 
 ail. Let this be righted, let the spring 
 come to him, the morning rise over his 
 couch, and he will forsake his generous 
 companions without apology. WALDEN.P. s 4 . 
 
 Our own All health and success does me 
 
 sanity most good, however far off and with- 
 
 helpfulto 
 
 others. drawn it may appear ; all disease
 
 SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU, 13 
 
 and failure helps to make me sad and does 
 me evil, however much sympathy it may 
 have with me or I with it. If, then, we 
 would restore mankind by truly Indian, 
 botanic, magnetic, or natural means, let us 
 be as simple and well as Nature ourselves, 
 dispel the clouds which hang over our own 
 brows, and take up a little life into our 
 pores. Do not stay to be an overseer of 
 the poor, but endeavor to become one of 
 the worthies of the world. WALDBN, P . 8 5 . 
 
 The true A man is rich in proportion to 
 
 the number of things which he 
 can afford to let alone. WALDEN, P . 8 9 . 
 
 The best With respect to landscapes, 
 
 crop which ,, T i j- n T 
 
 a farm I am monarch of all 1 survey, 
 
 affords. My right there is none to dispute." 
 
 I have frequently seen a poet withdraw, 
 having enjoyed the most valuable part of a 
 farm, while the crusty farmer supposed that 
 he had got a few wild apples only. Why, 
 the owner does not know it for many years 
 when a. poet has put his farm in rhyme, the 
 most admirable kind of invisible fence, 
 has fairly impounded it, milked it, skimmed 
 it, and got all the cream, and left the farmer 
 only the skimmed milk. WALDEN, P . 90.
 
 14 SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. 
 
 Slavery ^8 l n as possible, live ffCC 
 
 to affairs. and unc ommitted. It makes but 
 little difference whether you are committed 
 to a farm or the county jail. WALDEN, P . 9 .. 
 
 Make the ^ ^ not propose to write an 
 
 goo d f in hat ode to dejection, but to brag as 
 
 lustily as chanticleer in the morn 
 
 ing standing on his roost, if only to wake 
 
 my neighbors Up. WALDEN, p. 9 a. 
 
 The creation The winds which passed over 
 
 a poem to 
 
 open ears, my dwelling were such as sweep 
 over the ridges of mountains, bearing the 
 broken strains, or celestial parts only, of 
 terrestrial music. The morning wind for 
 ever blows, the poem of creation is unin 
 terrupted ; but few are the ears that hear 
 it. Olympus is but the outside of the 
 earth everywhere. WALDEN, P . 92. 
 
 The invita- Every morning was a cheerful 
 
 tionofmorn- ... ,. r , 
 
 ing. invitation to make my lite ot 
 
 equal simplicity, and I may say innocence, 
 with Nature herself. WALDKN, P . 96. 
 
 A new life They say that characters were 
 each day. en g raven on the bathing tub of
 
 SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. 15 
 
 king Tching-Thang to this effect : " Re 
 new thyself completely each day ; do it 
 again, and again, and forever again." 
 
 WALDEH, p. 96. 
 
 we should Little is to be expected of that 
 
 be awakened . , . . 
 
 each morn- day, it it can be called a day, to 
 
 ing by new . 111 
 
 inward life, which we are not awakened by 
 our Genius, but by the mechanical nudg- 
 ings of some servitor, are not awakened 
 by our own newly acquired force and as 
 pirations from within to a higher life than 
 we fell asleep from. WALDEN, P . 9 6. 
 
 After a partial cessation of his 
 
 The organs 
 
 gerdul re- sensuous life, the soul of man, or 
 bTrfeahnfui its organs rather, are reinvigo- 
 rated each day, and his Genius 
 tries again what noble life it can make. 
 
 WALDEN, p. 97. 
 
 Morning is To him whose elastic and vig- 
 r r e e truly rwe orous thought keeps pace with 
 the sun, the day is a perpetual 
 morning. It matters not what the clocks 
 say, or the attitudes and labors of men. 
 Morning is when I am awake and there is 
 a dawn in me. WALDEN, P . 97 .
 
 1 6 SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. 
 
 NO one To be awake Is to be alive. I 
 
 thoroughly 
 
 awake. have never yet met a man who 
 was quite awake. How could I have 
 looked him in the face ? WALDEN, P . 9 s. 
 
 Expectation We must learn to reawaken and 
 of the dawn. keep ourse i ves awake, not by 
 
 mechanical aids, but by an infinite expec 
 tation of the dawn, which does not forsake 
 us in our soundest sleep. WALDEN, p. 9 s. 
 
 Give beauty It is something to be able to 
 
 to the day . 
 
 from the paint a. particular picture, or to 
 
 beauty 
 
 within. carve a statue, and so to make a 
 few objects beautiful ; but it is far more 
 glorious to carve and paint the very atmos 
 phere and medium through which we look, 
 which morally we can do. To affect the 
 quality of the day, that is the highest 
 
 Of arts. WALDEN, p. 98. 
 
 Real life. I did not wish to live what was 
 
 not life, living is so dear ; nor did I wish 
 to practice resignation, unless it was quite 
 
 necessary. WALDEN, p. 98. 
 
 Life not to Our life is frittered away by 
 
 coTexit y he detail. Simplicity, simplicity, 
 
 simplicity! Let your affairs be
 
 SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. I/ 
 
 as two or three, and not a hundred or a 
 thousand ; instead of a million count half 
 a dozen, and keep your accounts on your 
 
 thumb nail. WALDEN, p. 99- 
 
 "Plain living The nation itself is just such an 
 
 and high . . , . , . , 
 
 thinking." unwieldy and overgrown establish 
 ment, cluttered with furniture and tripped 
 up by its own traps, ruined by luxury and 
 heedless expense, by want of calculation 
 and a worthy aim, as the million house 
 holds in the land ; and the only cure for it 
 as for them is in a rigid economy, a stern 
 and more than Spartan simplicity of life 
 and elevation of purpose. WALDEN, P . 99- 
 
 Life wasted Why should we live with such 
 in affairs. hurry and waste of life ? We are 
 determined to be starved before we are 
 hungry. Men say that a stitch in time 
 saves nine, and so they take a thousand 
 stitches to-day to save nine to-morrow. 
 
 WALDEN, p. 100. 
 
 The news as What news ! how much more 
 
 wXt^ai important to know what that is 
 
 which was never old ! " Kieou-he- 
 
 yu (great dignitary of the state of Wei)
 
 1 8 SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. 
 
 sent a man to Khoung-tseu to know his 
 news. Khoung-Tseu caused the messenger 
 to be seated near him, and questioned him 
 in these terms : What is your master 
 doing ? The messenger answered with 
 respect, My master desires to diminish 
 the number of his faults, but he cannot 
 come to the end of them. The messenger 
 being gone, the philosopher remarked : 
 What a worthy messenger ! What a wor 
 thy messenger ! WALDEN, P . 103. 
 
 what alone If we respected only what is in- 
 has reality. ev i ta bi e and has a right to be, 
 
 music and poetry would resound along the 
 streets. When we are unhurried and wise, 
 we perceive that only great and worthy 
 things have any permanent and absolute 
 existence, that petty fears and petty 
 pleasures are but the shadow of the reality. 
 This is always exhilarating and sublime. 
 
 WALDEN, p. 103. 
 
 The great God himself culminates in the 
 eve r L re present moment, and will never 
 be more divine in all the ages. 
 And we are enabled to apprehend at all 
 what is sublime and noble, only by the
 
 SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. 19 
 
 perpetual instilling and drenching of the 
 reality that surrounds us. WALDEN, P . io S . 
 
 Live deiib- Let us spend one day as deliber 
 ately as Nature, and not be thrown 
 off the track by every nutshell and mos 
 quito s wing that falls on the rails. Let 
 us rise early, and fast, or break fast, gently 
 and without perturbation ; let company 
 come and let company go ; let the bells ring 
 and the children cry, determined to make 
 
 a day Of it. WALDEN, p. 105. 
 
 seek to Let us settle ourselves, and 
 
 through work and wedge our feet down- 
 reaiity. ward through the mud and slush 
 of opinion and prejudice and tradition and 
 delusion and appearance, that alluvion 
 which covers the globe, through Paris and 
 London, through New York and Boston 
 and Concord, through church and state, 
 through poetry and philosophy and reli 
 gion, till we come to a hard bottom and 
 rocks in place, which we can call reality. 
 
 WALDEN, p. 105. 
 
 Use of the The intellect is a cleaver; it 
 intellect. discerns and rifts its way into the
 
 2O SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. 
 
 secret of things. I do not wish to be any 
 more busy with my hands than is neces 
 sary. My head is hands and feet. I feel 
 all my best faculties concentrated in it. 
 
 WALDEN, p. ic6. 
 
 The shallow Time is but the stream I go 
 
 stream of . . 
 
 time. a-nshmg in. I drink at it ; but 
 
 while I drink, I see the sandy bottom and 
 detect how shallow it is. Its thin current 
 slides away, but eternity remains. I would 
 drink deeper, fish in the sky, whose bot 
 tom is pebbly with stars. WALDEN, P . 106. 
 
 Mortality In accumulating property for 
 
 and im- . 
 
 mortality. ourselves or our posterity, in 
 founding a family or a state, or acquiring 
 fame even, we are mortal ; but in dealing 
 with truth we are immortal, and need fear 
 no change nor accident. WALDEN, p. ios. 
 
 HOW to read The heroic books, even if 
 books 6 printed in the character of our 
 mother tongue, will always be in a language 
 dead to degenerate times ; and we must 
 laboriously seek the meaning of each word 
 and line, conjecturing a larger sense than
 
 SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. 21 
 
 common use permits, out of what wisdom 
 and valor and generosity we have. 
 
 WALUKN, p. 109. 
 
 what are Men sometimes speak as if the 
 
 sics" ? study of the classics would at 
 length make way for more modern and 
 practical studies ; but the adventurous stu 
 dent will always study classics, in whatever 
 language they may be written, and however 
 ancient they may be. For what are the 
 classics but the noblest recorded thoughts 
 of men ? They are the only oracles which 
 are not decayed, and there are such an 
 swers to the most modern inquiry in them 
 as Delphi and Dodona never gave. 
 
 WALDEN, p. no. 
 
 How true T read We]1 > ~ that is t<D 
 
 should be true books in a true spirit, is a 
 noble exercise, and one that will 
 task the reader more than any exercise 
 which the customs of the day esteem. It 
 requires a training such as the athletes 
 underwent, the steady intention almost of 
 the whole life to this object. Books must 
 be read as deliberately and reservedly as 
 they were written. WALDEN, P . no.
 
 22 SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. 
 
 Living in We should be blessed if we 
 
 the present. jj ve( j j n the present a l ways> an d 
 
 took advantage of every accident that be 
 fell us, like the grass which confesses the 
 influence of the slightest dew that falls on 
 it ; and did not spend our time in atoning 
 for the neglect of past opportunities, which 
 we call doing our duty. We loiter in win 
 ter while it is already spring. WALDEN . P- 336- 
 
 The in- In a pleasant spring morning 
 
 Spring. all men s sins are forgiven. Such 
 a day is a truce to vice. While such a sun 
 holds out to burn, the vilest sinner may 
 return. Through our own recovered inno 
 cence we discern the innocence of our 
 
 neighbors. WALDBN, p. 336. 
 
 wiidness. We need the tonic of wild- 
 
 ness, to wade sometimes in marshes 
 where the bittern and the meadow -hen 
 lurk, and hear the booming of the snipe. 
 At the same time that we are earnest to 
 explore and learn all things, we require 
 that all things be mysterious and inexplor- 
 able, that land and sea be infinitely wild. 
 
 WALDEN, p. 339.
 
 SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. 2$ 
 
 The glory of Be B. Columbus to whole new 
 
 the realm . . , . . . 
 
 within. continents and worlds within you, 
 opening new channels, not of trade, but of 
 thought. Every man is the lord of a 
 realm beside which the earthly empire of 
 the Czar is but a petty state, a hummock 
 
 left by the ice. WALDEN, p. 343- 
 
 Know If you would learn to speak 
 
 all tongues and conform to the 
 customs of all nations, if you would travel 
 farther than all travellers, be naturalized in 
 all climes, and cause the Sphinx to dash 
 her head against a stone, even obey the 
 precept of the old philosopher, and Explore 
 
 thyself. WALDEN, p. 344- 
 
 The universe l learned this, at least, by my 
 ourhigTelt experiment : that if one advances 
 confidently in the direction of his 
 dreams, and endeavors to live the life 
 which he has imagined, he will meet with 
 a success unimagined in common hours. 
 In proportion as he simplifies his life, the 
 laws of the universe will appear less com 
 plex, and solitude will not be solitude, nor 
 poverty poverty, nor weakness weakness. 
 
 WALDEN, p. 346.
 
 24 SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. 
 
 Realize ^ y ou nave built castles in the 
 
 your dream. ^ your wor k need not be lost J 
 
 that is where they should be. Now put 
 the foundations under them. W ALDEN, P . 34 6. 
 
 Extrava- I desire to speak somewhere 
 
 gance of 
 
 expression. witJioiit bounds, like a man in a 
 waking moment, to men in waking mo 
 ments ; for I am convinced that I cannot 
 exaggerate enough even to lay the founda 
 tion of a true expression. Who that has 
 heard a strain of music feared then lest he 
 should speak extravagantly any more for 
 
 ever ? WALDEN, p. 347. 
 
 The words which express our 
 
 Indefinite 
 
 words may faith and piety are not definite ; 
 
 be most * J 
 
 significant. ve t \^ Q j are significant and fra 
 grant, like frankincense, to superior na 
 
 tures. WALDEN, p. 347. 
 
 step to the If a man does not keep pace 
 
 music you . 
 
 hear. with his companions, perhaps it 
 
 is because he hears a different drummer. 
 Let him step to the music which he hears, 
 however measured or far away. It is not 
 important that he should mature as soon 
 as an apple-tree or an oak. Shall he turn 
 his spring into summer ? WALDEN, P . 34 s.
 
 SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. 2$ 
 Aim ever at ^ ^e condition of things which 
 
 the highest. we were ma( J e f or i s not y et) w h a t 
 
 were any reality which we can substitute ? 
 We will not be shipwrecked on a vain real 
 ity. Shall we with pains erect a heaven of 
 blue glass over ourselves, though when it 
 is done we shall be sure to gaze still at the 
 true ethereal heaven far above, as if the 
 former were not ? WALDEN, P . 349 . 
 
 Live for that ^ n an imperfect work time is 
 
 whkh b an ingredient, but into a perfect 
 
 work time does not enter. 
 
 WALDEN, p. 349. 
 
 why we are No face which we can give to a 
 
 T7auJ y matter will stead us so well at 
 position. last ag the truth _ Thig alone 
 
 wears well. For the most part, we are not 
 where we are, but in a false position. 
 Through an infirmity of our natures, we 
 suppose a case, and put ourselves into it, 
 and hence are in two cases at the same 
 time, and it is doubly difficult to get out. 
 
 WALDEN, p. 350. 
 
 The sim- In sane moments we regard 
 
 truth. only the facts, the case that is.
 
 26 SELECTIONS FROM TIIOREAU. 
 
 Say what you have to say, not what you 
 ought. Any truth is better than make- 
 believe. WALDBN, p. 350. 
 
 Make the Love your lif e, poor as it is, 
 
 best of your . 
 
 own life. meet it and live it ; do not shun 
 it and call it hard names. It is not so bad 
 as you are. It looks poorest when you are 
 richest. The fault-finder will find faults 
 even in paradise. WALDEN, p. 35 o. 
 
 Poverty You may perhaps have some 
 
 need not , ..... . 
 
 take from us pleasant, thrilling, glorious hours, 
 
 the purest . 
 
 enjoyments, even in a poor-house. 1 he set 
 ting sun is reflected from the windows of 
 the alms-house as brighly as from the rich 
 man s abode ; the snow melts before its 
 door as early in the spring. WALDEN, P . 35 o. 
 
 Dishonesty Most think they are above being 
 dependence, supported by the town ; but it 
 oftener happens that they are not above 
 supporting themselves by dishonest means, 
 which should be more disreputable. 
 
 WALDEN, p. 351.
 
 SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. 2"J 
 
 Humility Do not seek so anxiously to be 
 
 soui c mo s re he developed, to subject yourself to 
 than culture. many j n fl uences to be played on ; 
 
 it is all dissipation. Humility, like dark 
 ness, reveals the heavenly lights. The 
 shadows of poverty and meanness gather 
 around us, " and, lo ! creation widens to 
 
 OUr View." WALDEN, p. 351. 
 
 wealth does We are often reminded that, if 
 
 not help in 
 
 our pursuit there were bestowed on us the 
 
 of the , 
 
 highest. wealth of Croesus, our aims must 
 still be the same, and our means essen 
 tially the Same. WALDEN, p. 351. 
 
 Advantage If 7 OU are restricted in your 
 of poverty. ran g e by poverty, if you cannot 
 buy books and newspapers, for instance, 
 you are but confined to the most signifi 
 cant and vital experiences ; you are com 
 pelled to deal with the material which 
 yields the most sugar and the most starch. 
 
 WALDEN, p. 351. 
 
 Money not Superfluous wealth can buy su- 
 for the soul, perflultics only. Money is not 
 required to buy one necessary of the soul. 
 
 WALDEN, p. 352.
 
 28 SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. 
 
 A person * ^ OVe tO We ig n > to Settle, tO 
 
 onTif^wn gravitate toward that which most 
 path. strongly and rightfully attracts 
 
 me ; not hang by the beam of the scale 
 and try to weigh less, not suppose a case, 
 but take the case that is ; to travel the 
 only path I can, and that on which no 
 power can resist me. WALDEN, p. 352. 
 
 Fidelity in Drive a nail home and clinch it 
 so faithfully that you can wake 
 up in the night and think of your work 
 with satisfaction, a work at which you 
 would not be ashamed to invoke the Muse. 
 So will help you God, and so only. Every 
 nail driven should be as another rivet in 
 the machine of the universe, you carrying 
 
 On the WOrk. WALDEN, p. 353- 
 
 Hospitaiity I sat at a table where were rich 
 
 in manners, r ,,..,, , 
 
 not in the rood and wine in abundance, and 
 
 "entertain- 
 
 ment." I went away hungry from the in 
 hospitable board. The hospitality was as 
 cold as the ices. . . . The style, the house 
 and grounds and "entertainment," pass for 
 nothing with me. I called on the king, but 
 he made me wait in his hall, and conducted 
 like a man incapacitated for hospitality.
 
 SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. 29 
 
 There was a man in my neighborhood who 
 lived in a hollow tree. His manners were 
 truly regal. I should have done better had 
 
 I Called On him. WALDEN, p. 353. 
 
 workessen- How long shall we sit in our 
 acter. porticoes practicing idle and mus 
 
 ty virtues, which any work would make im 
 pertinent ? As if one were to begin the 
 day with long-suffering, and hire a man to 
 hoe his potatoes ; and in the afternoon go 
 forth to practice Christian meekness and 
 charity with goodness aforethought ! 
 
 WALDEN, p. 354. 
 
 "More day Only that day dawns to which 
 
 we are awake. There is more 
 
 day to dawn. The sun is but a morning 
 
 Star. WALDEN, p. 357. 
 
 The vk- Say not that Caesar was victorious, 
 character. With toil and strife who stormed 
 
 the House of Fame ; 
 In other sense this youth was glorious, 
 Himself a kingdom wheresoe er he came. 
 
 WBEK, p. 276. 
 
 The heart is forever inexperienced. 
 
 WEEK, p. 278.
 
 3O SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. 
 Friendship There is on the earth no insti- 
 
 a thing out- . . . 
 
 side of hu- tution which friendship has es- 
 
 man institu 
 tions, tablished ; it is not taught by any 
 
 religion ; no scripture contains its maxims. 
 
 WEEK, p. 280. 
 
 Friendship No word is oftener on the lips 
 
 the dream . 
 
 of ail. or men than " friendship, and in 
 
 deed no thought is more familiar to their 
 aspirations. All men are dreaming of it, 
 and its drama, which is always a tragedy, 
 is enacted daily. It is the secret of the uni 
 verse WEEK, p. 281. 
 
 The actual ^ ls equally impossible to for- 
 sug^on a get our friends, and to make 
 of the ideal, them answer to our ideal. When 
 they say farewell, then indeed we begin to 
 keep them company. How often we find 
 ourselves turning our backs on our actual 
 friends, that we may go and meet their 
 ideal cousins ! WKEK P- 28 - 
 
 A fnend Even the utmost good will and 
 
 the soul. harmony and practical kindness 
 are not sufficient for friendship, for friends 
 do not live in harmony, merely, as some 
 say, but in melody. We do not wish for
 
 SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. 31 
 
 friends to feed and clothe our bodies, 
 neighbors are kind enough for that, but 
 to do the like office to our spirits. For 
 this, few are rich enough, however well 
 disposed they may be. WEEK, P . 282. 
 
 A Wend, Think of the importance of 
 
 the true .... , 
 
 educator. friendship in the education of 
 men. It will make a man honest ; it will 
 make him a hero ; it will make him a saint. 
 It is the state of the just dealing with the 
 just, the magnanimous with the magnani 
 mous, the sincere with the sincere, man 
 with man. WEEK, 11.283. 
 
 The friend All the abuses which are the 
 
 the only radi- r -11 1-1 
 
 cai reformer, object or retorm with the philan- 
 thropist, the statesman, and the house 
 keeper, are unconsciously amended in the 
 intercourse of friends. WEEK, P . 283. 
 
 It takes two to speak the truth, one 
 to speak, and another to hear. WEEK, p. 283. 
 
 Men ask too ^ n our daily intercourse with 
 no biTdeait 6 men > our nobler faculties are dor 
 mant and suffered to rust. None 
 will pay us the compliment to expect no-
 
 32 SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. 
 
 bleness from us. We ask our neighbor to 
 surfer himself to be dealt with truly, sin 
 cerely, nobly ; but he answers no by his 
 deafness. He does not even hear this 
 prayer. WEEK, P . 284. 
 
 society con- The state does not demand 
 tent with a j ustice o f its mem bers, but thinks 
 
 too narrow 
 
 that it succeeds very well with 
 the least degree of it, hardly more than 
 rogues practice ; and so do the family and 
 the neighborhood. What is commonly 
 called friendship is only a little more honor 
 among rogues. WEEK, P . 284. 
 
 Hearty truth Between whom there is hearty 
 
 is one with . . 
 
 love. truth there is love ; and m pro 
 
 portion to our truthfulness and confidence 
 in one another, our lives are divine and 
 miraculous, and answer to our ideal. 
 
 WEEK, p. 284. 
 
 The purest There are passages of affection 
 g^mpseof i n our intercourse with mortal 
 men and women, such as no pro 
 phecy had taught us to expect, which trans 
 cend our earthly life and anticipate heaven 
 
 for US. WEEK, p. 284.
 
 SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. 33 
 
 Estrange- Between two by nature alike 
 and fitted to sympathize, there is 
 no veil, and there can be no obstacle. 
 Who are the estranged ? Two friends ex 
 plaining. WINTER, p. i. 
 
 Friends are The books for young people 
 
 not selected. 
 
 tion of friends ; it is because they really 
 have nothing to say about friends. They 
 mean associates and confidants merely. . . . 
 Friendship takes place between those who 
 have an affinity for one another, and is a 
 perfectly natural and inevitable result. No 
 professions nor advances will avail. 
 
 WEEK, p. 285. 
 
 Friends not Impatient and uncertain lovers 
 pleach think that they must say or do 
 something kind whenever they 
 meet ; they must never be cold. But they 
 who are friends do not do what they 
 think they must, but what they must. Even 
 their friendship is, in one sense, a sublime 
 phenomenon to them. WEEK, P . 285. 
 
 Friends help The f riend asks no return but 
 
 fo a f c tiest thers that his friend will religiously 
 
 accept and wear and not disgrace
 
 34 SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. 
 
 his apotheosis of him. They cherish each 
 other s hopes. They are kind to each 
 other s dreams. WEEK, p. 286. 
 
 Between No such affront can be offered 
 
 goodwill is to a friend as a conscious good- 
 not"^ will, a friendliness which is not a 
 necessity of the friend s nature. 
 
 WEEK, p. 286. 
 
 Friendship is no respecter of sex ; and 
 perhaps it is more rare between the sexes 
 than between two of the same sex. 
 
 WEEK, p. 287. 
 
 A hero s love is as delicate as a maiden s. 
 
 WEEK, p. 287. 
 
 My friend is that one whom I can as 
 sociate with my choicest thought. 
 
 WEEK, p. 288. 
 
 The toiera- Beware lest thy friend learn at 
 
 tion of faults . . r MI. r 
 
 an obstacle last to tolerate one frailty of 
 ship" 6 " thine, and so an obstacle be raised 
 to the progress of thy love. WEBK, P . 288.
 
 SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. 35 
 
 The purest Friendship is never established 
 !he e mosj p un- as an understood relation. Do 
 
 conscious. y()u ^ emand that J be less your 
 
 friend that you may know it ? WEEK, P . 2 88. 
 
 Genuine Wait not till I invite thee, but 
 
 invitation, observe that I am glad to see 
 thee when thou comest. .WEEK, P 2 8 9 . 
 
 Where my friend lives, there are all 
 riches and every attraction, and no slight 
 obstacle can keep me from him. WEEK, P . 289. 
 
 The language of friendship is not words, 
 but meanings. It is an intelligence above 
 
 language. WEEK, p. 2 8 9 . 
 
 Friendship It is one proof of a man s fit- 
 wisdom ness for friendship that he is 
 
 as well as .... 
 
 tenderness, able to do without that which is 
 cheap and passionate. A true friendship 
 is as wise as it is tender. WEEK, P . 29 o. 
 
 Friendship When the friend comes out of 
 conscious his heathenism and superstition, 
 and breaks his idols, being con 
 verted by the precepts of a newer testa-
 
 36 SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. 
 
 ment ; when he forgets his mythology, and 
 treats his friend like a Christian, or as he 
 can afford, then friendship ceases to be 
 friendship, and becomes charity ; that prin 
 ciple which established the almshouse is" 
 now beginning with its charity at home, 
 and establishing an almshouse and pauper 
 relations there. WEEK, P . 292. 
 
 Friendship A oase friendship is of a nar- 
 imwMt of rowing and exclusive tendency, 
 humanity. but ^ no\A& one is not exclusive ; 
 its very superfluity and dispersed love is 
 the humanity which sweetens society, and 
 sympathizes with foreign nations ; for, 
 though its foundations are private, it is 
 in effect a public affair and a public advan 
 tage, and the friend, more than the father 
 of a family, deserves well of the state. 
 
 WEEK, p. 293. 
 
 Are any The only danger in friendship 
 
 enough for is that it will end. It is a deli- 
 friendship? cate plant, though a native. The 
 least unworthiness, even if it be unknown 
 to one s self, vitiates it. Let the friend 
 know that those faults which he observes 
 in his friend his own faults attract. . . .
 
 SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. 37 
 
 Perhaps there are none charitable, none 
 disinterested, none wise, noble, and heroic 
 enough, for a true and lasting friendship. 
 
 WEEK, p. 294. 
 
 Friends do I sometimes hear my friends 
 
 not ask to be r . , 
 
 appreciated, complain finely that 1 do not ap 
 preciate their fineness. I shall not tell 
 them whether I do or not. As if they ex 
 pected a vote of thanks for every fine 
 thing which they uttered or did ! Who 
 knows but it was finely appreciated ? It 
 may be that your silence was the finer 
 
 thing Of the tWO. WEEK, p. 294. 
 
 Between I n human intercourse the tra- 
 
 riknceis g ec ty begins, not when there is 
 )od- misunderstanding about words, 
 but when silence is not understood. Then 
 there can never be an explanation. 
 
 WEEK, p. 294. 
 
 The reserve often forbear to confess our 
 
 of affection. f ee lJ nS) not f rom j-Jde, but for 
 
 fear that we could not continue to love the 
 one who required us to give such proof of 
 
 affection. WEEK, p. 295.
 
 38 SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. 
 
 A Wend For a companion, I require one 
 
 one s s hig s hest wno w i^ make an equal demand 
 
 aspirations. Qn me my Qwn g enms> 
 
 a one will always be rightly tolerant. It 
 is suicide and corrupts good manners to 
 welcome any less than this. I value and 
 trust those who love and praise my aspira 
 tion rather than my performance. If you 
 would not stop to look at me, but look 
 whither I am looking and farther, then my 
 education could not dispense with your 
 company. WEEK, P . 296. 
 
 I cannot leave my sky 
 
 For thy caprice ; 
 True love would soar as high 
 
 As heaven is. 
 
 The eagle would not brook 
 
 Her mate thus won, 
 Who trained his eye to look 
 
 Beneath the sun. WEEK, P . 297. 
 
 Friendship Confucius said, "To contract 
 what tawgh- ties of friendship with any one, 
 estineach. j g to contract friendship with 
 
 his virtue. There ought not to be any 
 other motive in friendship." WEEK, P . 298.
 
 SELECTIONS FROM THOKEAU. 39 
 
 The faults of ^ * s impossible to say all that 
 mus! r be n iost we think, even to our truest 
 friend. We may bid him fare 
 well forever sooner than complain, for our 
 complaint is too well grounded to be ut 
 tered. WEEK, p. 299. 
 
 Friends The constitutional differences 
 
 sUen t 136 which always exist, and are ob- 
 sdmdonaY stacles to a perfect friendship, 
 are forever a forbidden theme to 
 the lips of friends. They advise by their 
 whole behavior. Nothing can reconcile 
 them but love. WEEK, p. 299. 
 
 The necessity itself for explanation, 
 what explanation will atone for that ? 
 
 WEEK, p. 299. 
 
 The real True love does not quarrel for 
 
 differences , , , 
 
 between slight reasons, such mistakes as 
 
 friends 
 
 cannot be mutual acquaintances can explain 
 
 explained 
 
 away. away ; but, alas, however slight 
 
 the apparent cause, only for adequate and 
 fatal and everlasting reasons, which can 
 never be set aside. Its quarrel, if there is 
 any, is ever recurring, notwithstanding the 
 beams of affection which invariably come 
 to <rild its tears. WEEK, p. 3 oo.
 
 4O SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. 
 
 We must accept or refuse one another 
 as we are. I could tame a hyena more 
 easily than my friend. WEEK, p. 3 oo. 
 
 NO real we Ignorance and bungling, with 
 without love. love> are better than w i s d om and 
 
 skill without. There may be courtesy, 
 there may be even temper and wit and 
 talent and sparkling conversation, there 
 may be good-will even, and yet the hu- 
 manest and divinest faculties pine for ex 
 ercise. Our life without love is like coke 
 and ashes. WEEK, p. 300. 
 
 The inward 
 
 dawn. 
 
 Nature doth have her dawn each 
 
 But mine are far between ; 
 
 Content, I cry, for sooth to say, 
 
 Mine brightest are, I ween. 
 
 For when my sun doth deign to rise, 
 Though it be her noontide, 
 
 Her fairest field in shadow lies, 
 Nor can my light abide. WEEK, P . 301. 
 
 Friendship As ! love nature, as I love sing- 
 oF\ h ure ve ing birds, and gleaming stubble, 
 harmonize. an( j fl ow j n g r i v ers, and morning
 
 SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. 41 
 
 and evening, and summer and winter, I love 
 thee, my friend. WEEK, P . 302. 
 
 The Wend Even the death of friends will 
 
 leaves the . , . . , . 
 
 sweetest inspire us as much as their lives. 
 
 consolation . 
 
 at his death. They will leave consolation to the 
 mourners, as the rich leave money to de 
 fray the expenses of their funerals, and 
 their memories will be incrusted over with 
 sublime and pleasing thoughts, as monu 
 ments of other men are overgrown with 
 
 mOSS. WEEK, p. 302. 
 
 Two solitary stars, 
 Unmeasured systems far 
 Between us roll, 
 
 But by our conscious light we are 
 Determined to one pole. WEEK, P . 304. 
 
 civility Lying on lower levels is but a 
 
 friends. trivial offense compared with ci 
 vility and compliments on the level of 
 
 friendship. WINTER, p. 428. 
 
 Exalting We are all ordinarily in a state 
 
 mifsic. of desperation. Such is our life, 
 it ofttimes drives us to suicide. To how
 
 42 SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. 
 
 many, perhaps to most, life is barely toler 
 able ; and if it were not for the fear of death 
 or of dying, what a multitude would imme 
 diately commit suicide ! But let us hear a 
 strain of music, and we are at once adver 
 tised of a life which no man had told us 
 of, which no preacher preaches. 
 
 WINTER, p. 181. 
 
 No warder at the gate 
 Can let the friendly in, 
 But, like the sun, o er all 
 He will the castle win, 
 And shine along the wall. 
 
 WBBK, p. 305. 
 
 Implacable is Love : 
 Foes may be bought or teased 
 From their hostile intent, 
 But he goes unappeased 
 Who is on kindness bent. 
 
 WEEK, p. 305. 
 
 Simplify When the mathematician would 
 
 the problem . 
 
 of life. solve a difficult problem, he first 
 frees the equation of all encumbrances, and 
 reduces it to its simplest terms. So sim 
 plify the problem of life, distinguish the
 
 SELECTIONS FROM THOKEAU. 43 
 
 necessary and the real. Probe the earth 
 to see where your main roots run. 
 
 LETTERS, p. 43. 
 
 our faintest This > our respectable daily life, 
 fo^sS* in which the man of common 
 
 est reality. ^^ ^ Eng l ishman o f t he 
 
 world, stands so squarely, and on which 
 our institutions are founded, is in fact the 
 veriest illusion, and will vanish like the 
 baseless fabric of a vision ; but that faint 
 glimmer of reality which sometimes illu 
 minates the darkness of daylight for all 
 men, reveals something more solid and en 
 during than adamant, which is in fact the 
 corner-stone of the world. LETTERS, P . 44 
 
 Thereaiiza- Men cannot conceive of a state 
 
 tion of . . . 
 
 dreams. of things so fair that it cannot 
 be realized. LETTERS, p. 44. 
 
 We never have a fantasy so subtile and 
 ethereal, but that talent merely, with more 
 resolution and faithful persistency, after a 
 thousand failures, might fix and engrave it 
 in distinct and enduring words, and we 
 should see that our dreams are the solidest 
 
 facts that We knOVV. LETTERS, p. 43.
 
 44 SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. 
 
 What can be expressed in words can be 
 expressed in life. LETTERS, P . 45. 
 
 we can My actual life is a fact, in view 
 
 respect our . 
 
 aspirations, ot which 1 have no occasion to 
 
 not our 
 
 actual lives, congratulate myself ; but for my 
 faith and aspiration I have respect. 
 
 LETTERS, p. 45. 
 
 I love reform better than its modes. 
 There is no history of how bad became 
 
 better. LETTERS, p. 45. 
 
 As for positions, combinations, and de 
 tails, what are they ? In clear weather, 
 when we look into the heavens, what do 
 we see but the sky and the sun ? 
 
 LETTERS, p. 45. 
 
 individual If y u would convince a man 
 
 louSeT" that he does wrong, do right. 
 
 But do not care to convince him. 
 
 Men will believe what they see. Let them 
 
 See. LETTERS, p. 46. 
 
 ,< Dowhat Pursue, keep up with, circle 
 
 round and round your life, as a 
 
 dog does his master s chaise. Do what you
 
 SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. 45 
 
 love. Know your own bone ; gnaw at it, 
 bury it, unearth it, and gnaw it still. 
 
 LETTERS, p. 46. 
 
 "if ye be Aim above morality. Be not 
 
 led by the . . 
 
 spirit, ye simply good \ DQ good for some- 
 denheiaw." thing. All fables, indeed, have 
 their morals; but the innocent enjoy the 
 
 StOry. LETTERS, p. 46. 
 
 Direct ap- Let nothing come between you 
 
 peal to the 
 
 highest. and the light. Respect men as 
 brothers only. When you travel to the 
 Celestial City, carry no letter of introduc 
 tion. When you knock, ask to see God, 
 none of the servants. LETTERS, P . 4 s. 
 
 In what concerns you much, do not think 
 you have companions ; know that you are 
 alone in the world. LETTERS, p. 4 6. 
 
 The true ^ have tasted but little bread 
 
 in my life. It has been mere 
 grub and provender for the most part. Of 
 bread that nourished the brain and the 
 heart, scarcely any. There is absolutely 
 none, even on the tables of the rich. 
 
 LETTERS, p. 47.
 
 46 SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. 
 
 The delight Some men go a-hunting, some 
 ear r ning y a a-fishing, some a-gaming, some 
 to war ; but none have so pleas 
 ant a time as they who in earnest seek to 
 earn their bread. It is true actually as it 
 is true really ; it is true materially as it is 
 true spiritually, that they who seek hon 
 estly and sincerely, with all their hearts 
 and lives and strength, to earn their bread, 
 do earn it, and it is sure to be very sweet 
 
 tO them. LETTERS, p. 48. 
 
 A very little bread, a very few crumbs 
 are enough, if it be of the right quality, for 
 it is infinitely nutritious. Let each man, 
 then, earn at least a crumb of bread for his 
 body before he dies, and know the taste 
 of it, that it is identical with the bread 
 of life, and that they both go down at one 
 
 SWallOW. LETTERS, p. 48- 
 
 Not only the rainbow and sunset are 
 beautiful, but to be fed and clothed, shel 
 tered and warmed aright, are equally beau 
 tiful and inspiring. There is not necessa 
 rily any gross and ugly fact which may not 
 be eradicated from the life of man. 
 
 LETTERS, p. 49.
 
 SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. 47 
 
 The earnest How can any man be weak who 
 
 man irre- , ., - _, 
 
 sistibie. dares to be at all ? Even the ten- 
 derest plants force their way up through the 
 hardest earth, and the crevices of rocks ; 
 but a man no material power can resist. 
 What a wedge, what a beetle, what a cata 
 pult is an earnest man ! What can resist 
 
 him ? LETTERS, p. 49. 
 
 That we have but little faith is not sad, 
 but that we have but little faithfulness. 
 By faithfulness faith is earned. 
 
 LETTERS, p. 50. 
 
 The misery When once we fall behind our- 
 enc d e is to b our~ selves, there is no accounting for 
 the obstacles that rise up in our 
 path, and no one is so wise as to advise, 
 and no one so powerful as to aid us while 
 we abide on that ground. Such are cursed 
 with duties, and the neglect of their duties. 
 For such the decalogue was made, and 
 other far more voluminous and terrible 
 
 COdeS. LETTERS, p. 50. 
 
 cibg to Be not anxious to avoid pov- 
 
 the thread , . i i r 
 
 of life. erty. In this way the wealth of 
 the universe may be securely invested.
 
 48 SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. 
 
 What a pity if we do not live this short 
 time according to the laws of the long 
 time, the eternal laws ! ... In the 
 midst of this labyrinth let us live a thread 
 
 of life. LETTERS, p. 52. 
 
 The laws of The laws of earth are for the 
 heaveiThar- f eet > or inferior man ; the laws 
 of heaven are for the head, or 
 superior man ; the latter are the former 
 sublimed and expanded, even as radii 
 from the earth s centre go on diverging 
 
 Space. LETTERS, p. 53. 
 
 Happy the man who observes the heav 
 enly and terrestrial law in just proportion ; 
 whose every faculty, from the soles of his 
 feet to the crown of his head, obeys the 
 law of its level ; who neither stoops nor 
 goes on tiptoe, but lives a balanced life, 
 acceptable to nature and to God. 
 
 LETTERS, p. 53. 
 
 Newspapers. If words were invented to con 
 ceal thought, I think that newspapers are a 
 great improvement on a bad invention. 
 Do not surfer your life to be taken by 
 
 newspapers. LETTERS, p. 56.
 
 SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. 49 
 
 Rest for the When we are weary with trav 
 el, we lay down our load and rest 
 by the wayside. So, when we are weary 
 with the burden of life, why do we not lay 
 down this load of falsehoods which we have 
 volunteered to sustain, and be refreshed as 
 never mortal was ? Let the beautiful laws 
 prevail. Let us not weary ourselves by 
 resisting them. LETTERS, P . 57 . 
 
 God most It is not when I am going to 
 
 truly found ... . T 
 
 when not meet him, but when I am just 
 
 consciously . . 
 
 sought. turning away and leaving him 
 alone, that I discover that God is. I say, 
 God. I am not sure that that is the name. 
 You will know whom I mean. LETTERS, P . s s. 
 
 self renun- ^ f r a nioment we make way 
 with our petty selves, wish no ill 
 to anything, apprehend no ill, cease to be 
 but as the crystal which reflects a ray, 
 what shall we not reflect ! What a uni 
 verse will appear crystallized and radiant 
 
 US ! LETTERS, p. 58. 
 
 The muse The muse should lead like a 
 
 should lead, . - ... . 
 
 the under- star which is very tar oft ; but that 
 
 standing . 
 
 follow. does not imply that we are to tol- 
 low foolishly, falling into sloughs and over
 
 5O SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. 
 
 precipices, for it is not foolishness, but un 
 derstanding, which is to follow, which the 
 muse is appointed to lead, as a fit guide of 
 
 a fit follower. LETTERS, p. 58. 
 
 TOO high a Men make a great ado about 
 nTbe^ad"" the folly of demanding too much 
 
 upon life. of Hfe ( Qr of etemity? ^ and O f 
 
 endeavoring to live according to that 
 demand. It is much ado about nothing. 
 No harm ever came from that quarter. 
 
 LETTERS, p. 59. 
 
 Danger of I am not afraid that I shall ex- 
 
 undervalu- . 
 
 ing life. aggerate the value and significance 
 of life, but that I shall not be up to the 
 occasion which it is. I shall be sorry to 
 remember that I was there, but noticed 
 nothing remarkable, not so much as a 
 prince in disguise ; lived in the golden 
 age a hired man ; visited Olympus even, 
 but fell asleep after dinner, and did not 
 hear the conversation of the gods. 
 
 LETTERS, p. 59. 
 
 The kind of We, demanding news, and put- 
 reaiiywant. ting up with suc/i news ! Is it a 
 new convenience, or a new accident, or,
 
 SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. 5 [ 
 
 rather, a new perception of the truth that 
 
 We want ? LETTERS, p. 60. 
 
 Divine ex- ^ s not tne attitude of expecta- 
 pemtions. t j on SO mewhat divine ? a sort 
 of home-made divineness ? Does it not 
 compel a kind of sphere-music to attend on 
 it ? and do not its satisfactions merge at 
 length, by insensible degrees, in the enjoy 
 
 ment of the thing expected ? LETTERS, p. 6:. 
 
 Exalted em- Some absorbing employment on 
 pioyment. vour higher ground, your up 
 land farm, whither no cart-path leads, 
 but where you mount alone with your hoe, 
 where the life everlasting grows ; there 
 you raise a crop which needs not to be 
 brought down into the valley to a market ; 
 which you barter for heavenly products. 
 
 LETTERS, p. 61. 
 
 Yield not to Be not deterred by melancholy 
 heup- y on the path which leads to im- 
 
 wardpath. 
 
 they tasted of the water of the river over 
 which they were to go, they thought it tasted 
 a little bitterish to the palate, but it proved 
 sweeter when it was down. LETTERS, P . 6 3 .
 
 52 SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. 
 
 AS a man Our thoughts are the epochs in 
 
 thinketh, so _ . , , , . 
 
 is he. our lives ; all else is but as a 
 
 journal of the winds that blew while we 
 were here. LETTERS, p. 63. 
 
 Our ideal It is not easy to make our lives 
 
 shames our , / 
 
 best efforts, respectable by any course 01 ac 
 tivity. We must repeatedly withdraw into 
 our shells of thought, like the tortoise, 
 somewhat helplessly ; yet there is more 
 than philosophy in that. LETTERS, p. 64. 
 
 Inward If I should turn myself inside 
 
 poverty. QU ^ my ra g g an( _j meanne sS WOuld 
 
 indeed appear. I am something to him 
 that made me, undoubtedly, but not much 
 to any other that he has made. 
 
 LETTERS, p. 64. 
 
 He who As for missing friends, what 
 
 genius can- if we do miss one another ? 
 
 not lose his 
 
 friends. Have we not agreed on a rendez 
 vous ? While each wanders his own way 
 through the wood, without anxiety, ay, with 
 serene joy, though it be on his hands and 
 knees, over rocks and fallen trees, he can 
 not but be in the right way. There is no 
 
 Wrong Way tO him. LETTERS, p. 65.
 
 SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. 53 
 
 Friendship A man who missed his friend 
 m nature. ^ a { urn ^ W ent on buoyantly, di 
 viding the friendly air, and humming a tune 
 to himself, ever and anon kneeling with 
 delight to study each lichen in his path, and 
 scarcely made three miles a day for friend 
 ship. LETTERS, p. 65. 
 
 Unconscious l am g lad tO knOW that T am aS 
 
 much to any mortal as a persis 
 tent and consistent scarecrow is to a far 
 mer, such a bundle of straw in a man s 
 clothing as I am, with a few bits of tin to 
 sparkle in the sun dangling about me, as if 
 I were hard at work there in the field. 
 However, if this kind of life saves any 
 man s corn, why, he is the gainer. 
 
 LETTERS, p. 68. 
 
 The best I am no t afraid you will flatter 
 
 f s p ^S n e as long as you know what I 
 am, as well as what I think or aim 
 to be, and distinguish between these two ; 
 for then it will commonly happen that if 
 you praise the last, you will condemn the 
 
 first. LETTERS, p. 69.
 
 54 SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. 
 
 The earnest All the world complain now-a- 
 
 not hindered .. . . . . 
 
 by trifles. days of a press or trivial duties 
 and engagements, which prevents their 
 employing themselves on some higher 
 ground they know of ; but undoubtedly, if 
 they were made of the right stuff to work 
 on that higher ground, provided they were 
 released from all those engagements, they 
 would now at once fulfill the superior en 
 gagement, and neglect all the rest, as nar- 
 urally as they breathe. LETTERS, P . 7 o. 
 
 A glorious As for passing through any 
 cann"t e be e great and glorious experience, 
 ehmd and rising above it, as an eagle 
 might fly athwart the evening sky to rise 
 into still brighter and fairer regions of the 
 heavens, I cannot say that I ever sailed 
 so creditably, but my bark ever seemed 
 thwarted by some side wind, and went off 
 over the edge, and now only occasionally 
 tacks back toward the centre of that sea 
 
 again. LETTERS, p. 70. 
 
 Hope {or I have outgrown nothing good, 
 
 ourselves. j ^ Q nQ 
 
 behind by whole continents of virtue, which 
 should have been passed as islands in my
 
 SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. 55 
 
 course ; but I trust what else can I trust ? 
 that with a stiff wind, some Friday, when 
 I have thrown some of my cargo over 
 board, I may make up for all that distance 
 
 lost. LETTERS, p. 71. 
 
 wisdom and Man is continually saying to 
 daTtolach woman, Why will you not be 
 more wise ? Woman is contin 
 ually saying to man, Why will you not be 
 more loving ? It is not in their wills to be 
 wise or to be loving ; but, unless each is 
 both wise and loving, there can be neither 
 
 Wisdom nor love. LETTERS, p. 72. 
 
 I am not satisfied with ordinary 
 windows. I must have a true sky-light, 
 and that is outside the village. . . . The 
 man I meet with is not often so instructive 
 as the silence he breaks. This stillness, 
 solitude, wildness of nature is a kind of 
 thoroughwort or boneset to my intellect. 
 This is what I go out to seek. It is as if 
 I always met in those places some grand, 
 serene, immortal, infinitely encouraging, 
 though invisible, companion, and walked 
 with him. There at last my nerves are 
 steadied, my senses and my mind do their 
 
 Office. WINTER, p. 133.
 
 56 SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. 
 
 The human The lover sees in the glance of 
 his beloved the same beauty that 
 in the sunset paints the western skies. It 
 is the same daimon here lurking under a 
 human eyelid and there under the closing 
 eyelids of the day. Here, in small com 
 pass, is the ancient and natural beauty of 
 evening and morning. What loving astron 
 omer has ever fathomed the ethereal depths 
 
 Of the eye ? LETTERS, p. 73- 
 
 The lover s Perhaps an instinct survives 
 through the intensest actual love, 
 which prevents entire abandonment of de 
 votion, and makes the most ardent lover a 
 little reserved. It is the anticipation of 
 change. For the most ardent lover is not 
 the less practically wise, and seeks a love 
 which will last forever. LETTERS, P . 73 . 
 
 The rarity Considering how few poetical 
 marriages, friendships there are, it is remark 
 able that so many are married. It would 
 seem as if men yielded too easy an obedi 
 ence to nature without consulting their 
 genius. One may be drunk with love 
 without being any nearer to finding his 
 
 mate, LETTERS, p. 74.
 
 SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. $/ 
 
 Both com- ^ common sense had been con- 
 divine n s tnse suited, how many marriages would 
 consulted in never have taken place ; if uncom 
 mon or divine sense, how few 
 marriages, such as we witness, would ever 
 have taken place ! LETTERS, p. 74- 
 
 Love should Our love may be ascending or 
 
 be ascend- . TTT-I i 
 
 ing. descending. What is its charac 
 
 ter, if it may be said of it, 
 
 " \Ve must respect the souls above, 
 But only those below we lave." 
 
 LETTERS, p. 74. 
 
 shun a t Is your friend such a one that 
 
 descending 
 
 love. an increase of worth on your part 
 
 will rarely make her more your friend ? Is 
 she retained, is she attracted, by more 
 nobleness in you, by more of that virtue 
 which is peculiarly yours ; or is she indif 
 ferent and blind to that ? Is she to be 
 flattered and won by your meeting her on 
 any other than the ascending path ? Then 
 duty requires that you separate from her. 
 
 LETTERS, p. 74. 
 
 True love A man of fine perceptions is 
 
 most clear- ...... , 
 
 sighted. more truly feminine than a merely
 
 58 SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. 
 
 sentimental woman. The heart is blind ; 
 but love is not blind. None of the gods is 
 so discriminating. LETTERS, p. 75. 
 
 in love the ^ n ^ ove an ^ friendship the imag- 
 JITusTnotte ination is as much exercised as 
 
 offended. 
 
 raged, the other will be estranged. It 
 is commonly the imagination which is 
 wounded first, rather than the heart, it 
 is so much the more sensitive. 
 
 LETTERS, p. 75. 
 
 Lovers must I require that thou knowest 
 
 understand . 
 
 each another everything without being told 
 
 without 
 
 words. anything. I parted from my be 
 loved because there was one thing which I 
 had to tell her. She questioned me. She 
 should have known all by sympathy. That 
 I had to tell it her was the difference be 
 tween us, the misunderstanding. 
 
 LETTERS, p. 76. 
 
 The lover A lover never hears anything 
 
 hears things, . . . 
 
 not words, that is to/d, for that is commonly 
 either false or stale ; but he hears things 
 taking place, as the sentinels heard Trenck
 
 SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. 59 
 
 mining in the ground, and thought it was 
 
 moles. LETTERS, p. 76. 
 
 Lovede . If to chaffer and higgle are 
 
 Ctm osVdi- bad in trade, they are much worse 
 
 in love. It demands directness 
 
 as of an arrOW. LETTERS, p. 77- 
 
 The true The lover wants no partiality. 
 
 not e hidehfs He says, Be so kind as to be just. 
 ... I need thy hate as much as 
 thy love. Thou wilt not repel me entirely 
 when thou repellest what is evil in me. 
 
 LETTERS, p. 77. 
 
 Truthfulness. It is not enough that we are 
 truthful ; we must cherish and carry out 
 high purposes to be truthful about. 
 
 LETTERS, p. 78. 
 
 NO lower en- Commonly, men are as much 
 STlhT afraid of lov e as of hat e- They 
 
 way of love. haye lower en g agements . They 
 
 have near ends to serve. They have not 
 imagination enough to be thus employed 
 about a human being, but must be cooper 
 ing a barrel, forsooth. LETTERS, P . 7 s.
 
 60 SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. 
 
 NO treasure What a difference whether, in 
 paredwi?h a ll your walks, you meet only 
 strangers, or in one house is one 
 who knows you, and whom you know. To 
 have a brother or a sister ! To have a gold 
 mine on your farm ! To find diamonds in 
 the gravel heaps before your door ! How 
 rare these things are ! LETTERS, P . 7 z. 
 
 "Through Would not a friend enhance the 
 
 thee alone . 
 
 the sky is beauty ot the landscape as much 
 
 arched. r 
 
 Through as a deer or a hare ? Everything 
 
 thee the rose J 
 
 is red." would acknowledge and serve 
 such a relation ; the corn in the field, and 
 the cranberries in the meadow. The flow 
 ers would bloom and the birds sing with a 
 new impulse. There would be more fair 
 days in the year. LETTERS, p. ?s. 
 
 "On the The object of love expands 
 
 broken a^cs, and grows before us to eternity, 
 
 heaven a until it includes all that is lovely, 
 
 sound." and we become all that can love. 
 
 LETTERS, p. 79. 
 
 Meet others If you seek the warmth even 
 stpiane g of affection from a similar mo- 
 commrnd. tive to that from which cats and
 
 SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. 6 1 
 
 dogs and slothful persons hug the fire, be 
 cause your temperature is low through 
 sloth, you are on the downward road, and 
 it is but to plunge yet deeper into slofh. 
 
 LETTERS, p. 81. 
 
 Genuine The warmth of celestial love 
 
 love elevates does not relax, but nerves and 
 strengthens. b races j^s enjoyer. Warm your 
 body by healthful exercise, not by cower 
 ing over a stove. Warm your spirit by 
 performing independently noble deeds, not 
 by ignobly seeking the sympathy of your 
 fellows who are no better than yourself. 
 
 LETTERS, p. 81. 
 
 Friends deal A man s social and spiritual 
 truthwith discipline must answer to his cor- 
 
 each other. pQrea] Re must J ean Qn a friend 
 
 who has a hard breast, as he would lie on 
 a hard bed. He must drink cold water for 
 his only beverage. So he must not hear 
 sweetened and colored words, but pure and 
 refreshing truths. He must daily bathe in 
 truth cold as spring water, not warmed by 
 the sympathy of friends. LETTERS, p. si. 
 
 We must love our friend so much that
 
 62 SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. 
 
 she shall be associated with our purest and 
 holiest thoughts alone. When there is 
 impurity, we have "descended to meet," 
 
 though We knew it not. LETTERS, p. 82. 
 
 Love must We may love and not elevate 
 toSta one another. The love that takes 
 us as it finds us degrades us. 
 What watch we must keep over the fairest 
 and purest of our affections, lest there be 
 some taint about them. May we so love 
 as never to have occasion to repent our 
 
 love. LETTERS, p. 82. 
 
 A flower the Flowers, which, by their infinite 
 pore love. hues and fragrance, celebrate the 
 marriage of the plants, are intended for a 
 symbol of the open and unsuspected beauty 
 of all true marriage, when man s flower 
 ing season arrives. LETTERS, P . 82. 
 
 The joy of A true marriage will differ in 
 intellectual no wise from illumination. In all 
 perception. percept j on o f t h e truth there is a 
 
 divine ecstasy, an inexpressible delirium 
 of joy, as when a youth embraces his be 
 trothed virgin. The ultimate delights of 
 a true marriage are one with this. 
 
 LETTERS, p. 84.
 
 SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. 63 
 
 Pure love Some have asked if the stock of 
 
 the radical 11^1- ^ -r 
 
 reformer. men could not be improved, it 
 they could not be bred as cattle. Let love 
 be purified, and all the rest will follow. A 
 pure love is thus, indeed, the panacea for 
 
 all the ills Of the WOrld. LETTERS, p. 84. 
 
 The off- The only excuse for reproduc- 
 
 spring of the ... _ _ 
 
 noble tend tion is improvement. Nature ab- 
 
 to a higher 
 
 nobility. hors repetition. Beasts merely 
 propagate their kind ; but the offspring of 
 noble men and women will be superior to 
 themselves, as their aspirations are. By 
 their fruits ye shall know them. 
 
 LETTERS, p. 84. 
 
 Faithfulness As to how to preserve potatoes 
 knowledge from rotting my opinion may 
 soul. change from year to year ; but as 
 
 to how to preserve my soul from rotting, 
 I have nothing to learn, but something to 
 
 practice. LETTERS, p. 87. 
 
 wealth com- Tne problem of life becomes, 
 problem ^f 6 one cannot say by how many de 
 grees, more complicated as our 
 material wealth is increased, whether that 
 needle they tell of was a gateway or not,
 
 64 SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. 
 
 since the problem is not merely nor mainly 
 to get life for our bodies, but by this or a 
 similar discipline to get life for our souls ; 
 by cultivating the lowland farm on right 
 principles, that is, with this view, to turn 
 it into an upland farm. LETTERS, p. ss. 
 
 TO truly Though we are desirous to earn 
 
 earn our 
 
 bread, we our bread, we need not be anxious 
 
 must satisfy . . 
 
 God for it. to satisfy men tor it, though we 
 shall take care to pay them, but God, 
 
 Who alone gave it tO US. LETTERS, p. 89. 
 
 Men may ut US ln tne 
 
 PoSsfying debtors jail for that matter, sim 
 ply for paying our whole debt to 
 God, which includes our debt to them, and 
 though we have his receipt for it, for his 
 paper is dishonored. LETTERS, P . 90. 
 
 How prompt we are to satisfy the hun 
 ger and thirst of our bodies ; how slow to 
 satisfy the hunger and thirst of our souls. 
 
 LETTERS, p. 90. 
 
 Care for the An ordinary man will work 
 
 body com- 
 
 pared with every day for a year at shovelling 
 
 care for the J J J . f 
 
 soul. dirt to support his body, or a tarn-
 
 SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. 65 
 
 ily of bodies ; but he is an extraordinary 
 man who will work a whole day in a year 
 
 for the Support of his SOUI. LETTERS, p. go. 
 
 Real success. He alone is the truly enterpris 
 ing and practical man who succeeds in 
 maintaining his soul here. Have we not 
 our everlasting life to get ? and is not that 
 the only excuse for eating, drinking, sleep 
 ing, or even carrying an umbrella when it 
 
 rains ? LETTERS, p. go. 
 
 The helpful I am mucri indebted to you be- 
 courag?" our cause you look so steadily at the 
 aspirations. |j etter g^e, or ratri er the true cen 
 tre of me (for our true centre may, and 
 perhaps oftenest does, lie entirely aside 
 from us, and we are in fact eccentric), and, 
 as I have elsewhere said, " give me an op 
 portunity to live." LETTERS, p. 91. 
 
 The ideal What a little shelf is required, 
 slight su P - by which we may impinge upon 
 
 port in the ./- . J & . 
 
 actual. another, and build there our eyrie 
 in the clouds, and all the heavens we 
 see above us we refer to the crags around 
 and beneath us. Some piece of mica, as 
 it were, in the face or eyes of one, as on
 
 66 SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. 
 
 the delectable mountains, slanted at the 
 right angle, reflects the heavens to us. 
 
 LETTERS, p. 91. 
 
 HOW the It was not the hero I admired, 
 
 %u a res ra a ns ~ but the reflection from his epau 
 let or helmet. It is nothing (for 
 us) permanently inherent in another, but 
 his attitude or relation to what we prize, 
 that we admire. The meanest man may 
 glitter with micaceous particles to his fel 
 low s eye. These are the spangles that 
 adorn a man. LETTERS, p. 91. 
 
 ideal union. The highest union, ... or central 
 oneness, is the coincidence of visual rays. 
 Our club-room was an apartment in a con 
 stellation where our visual rays met (and 
 there was no debate about the restaurant). 
 The way between us is over the mount. 
 
 LETTERS, p 92. 
 
 Yourself and Your words make me think of 
 in y th e l f hg s n- a man of my acquaintance whom 
 I occasionally meet, whom you, 
 too, appear to have met, one Myself, as 
 he is called. Yet, why not call him Your- 
 self ? If you have met with him and
 
 SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. 6/ 
 
 know him, it is all I have done ; and surely 
 where there is mutual acquaintance, the 
 my and thy make a distinction without a 
 
 difference. LETTERS, p. 92. 
 
 The most Hold fast to your most indefi- 
 
 Ihought sig- nite, waking dream. The very 
 green dust on the walls is an or 
 ganized vegetable ; the atmosphere has its 
 fauna and flora floating in it ; and shall we 
 think that dreams are but dust and ashes, 
 are always disintegrated and crumbling 
 thoughts, and not dust-like thoughts troop 
 ing to their standard with music, systems 
 beginning to be organized ? LETTERS, P . 92. 
 
 Value of a Suppose a man were to sell the 
 
 clear soul .... 
 
 compared hue, the least amount of coloring 
 
 with mate- 
 
 rial gains. matter in the superficies of his 
 thought, for a farm, were to exchange an 
 absolute and infinite value for a relative 
 and finite one, to gain the whole world and 
 
 lose his Own SOUl ! LETTERS, p. 93. 
 
 Self-respect. It is worth while to live respect 
 ably unto ourselves. We can possibly get 
 along with a neighbor, even with a bedfel 
 low, whom we respect but very little ; but
 
 68 SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. 
 
 as soon as it comes to that, that we do not 
 respect ourselves, then we do not get along 
 at all, no matter how much money we are 
 
 paid for halting. LETTERS, p. 95. 
 
 Better ob- It is better to have your head 
 above than in the clouds, and know where 
 ness beiow. you are, if indeed you cannot 
 get it above them, than to breathe the 
 clearer atmosphere below them, and think 
 that you are in paradise. LETTERS, P . 96. 
 
 Appeal to All that men have said or are 
 
 the highest . . . 
 
 within you. is a very taint rumor, and it is not 
 worth while to remember or refer to that. 
 If you are to meet God, will you refer to 
 anybody out of that court ? How shall men 
 know how I succeed, unless they are in at 
 the life ? I did not see the " Times " re 
 porter there. LETTERS, p. 96. 
 
 Friends We will stand on solid founda- 
 
 must meet . _ . 
 
 erectly. tions to one another, la col 
 umn planted on this shore, you on that. . . . 
 We will not mutually fall over that we may 
 meet, but will grandly and eternally guard 
 
 the StraitS. LETTERS, p. 119-
 
 SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. 69 
 
 The comfort Talk of burning your smoke 
 of industry. a ter ^ Q WOO( ^ has been con- 
 
 sumed ! There is a far more important 
 and warming heat, commonly lost, which 
 precedes the burning of the wood. It is 
 the smoke of industry, which is incense. I 
 had been so thoroughly warmed in body 
 and spirit, that when at length my fuel was 
 housed, I came near selling it to the ash 
 man, as if I had extracted all its heat. 
 
 LETTERS, p. 128. 
 
 Providing Is it not delightful to provide 
 
 necessaries, , 1f . . . - 
 
 rot super- one s self with the necessaries of 
 pleasure. life, to collect dry wood for the 
 fire when the weather grows cool, or fruits 
 when we grow hungry? not till then. 
 And then we have all the time left for 
 
 thought ! LETTERS, p. 96. 
 
 A warm Of what use were it, pray, to 
 
 body and a . . . . . 
 
 cold spirit, get a little wood to burn to warm 
 your body this cold weather, if there were 
 not a divine fire kindled at the same time 
 
 tO Warm yOUr Spirit ? LETTERS, p. 97. 
 
 Thetrue Life is so short that it is not 
 
 wise to take roundabout ways, nor
 
 70 SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. 
 
 can we spend much time in waiting. Is it 
 absolutely necessary, then, that we should 
 do as we are doing ? . . . Though it is late 
 to leave off this wrong way, it will seem 
 early the moment we begin in the right 
 way ; instead of mid-afternoon, it will be 
 early morning with us. We have not got 
 half-way to dawn yet. LETTERS, P . 97 . 
 
 Necessity of We mUSt hea P U P a g reat P ile 
 
 of doing for a small diameter of 
 being. Is it not imperative on us that we 
 do something, if we only work in a tread 
 mill ? And, indeed, some sort of revolving 
 is necessary to produce a centre and nu 
 cleus of being. What exercise is to the 
 body, employment is to the mind and 
 
 morals. LETTERS, p. 99. 
 
 Uncon- There are so many layers of 
 
 sciousness of . 
 
 beauty. mere white lime m every shell to 
 that thin inner one so beautifully tinted. 
 Let not the shell-fish think to build his 
 house of that alone ; and pray, what are its 
 tints to him ? Is it not his smooth, close- 
 fitting shirt merely, whose tints are not to 
 him, being in the dark, but only when he 
 is gone or dead, and his shell is heaved up
 
 SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. Jl 
 
 to light, a wreck upon the beach, do they 
 
 appear. LETTERS, p. 99. 
 
 High results How admirably the artist is 
 made to accomplish his self-cul 
 ture by devotion to his art ! The wood- 
 sawyer, through his effort to do his work 
 well, becomes not merely a better wood- 
 sawyer, but measurably a better man. 
 
 LETTERS, p. 100. 
 
 NO diiettan- Y u say that you do not suc 
 ceed much. Does it concern you 
 enough that you do not ? Do you work 
 hard enough at it ? Do you get the bene 
 fit of discipline out of it ? If so, persevere. 
 Is it a more serious thing than to walk a 
 thousand miles in a thousand successive 
 hours ? Do you get any corns by it ? Do 
 you ever think of hanging yourself on ac 
 
 count Of failure ? LETTERS, p. 100. 
 
 It is the art of mankind to polish the 
 world, and every one who works is scrub 
 
 bing in SOme part. LETTERS, p. 101. 
 
 The higher If the work is high and far, you 
 
 the aim, the . 
 
 more earnest must not only aim aright, but 
 
 must be the J 
 
 work. draw the bow with all your might.
 
 72 SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. 
 
 You must qualify yourself to use a bow 
 which no humbler archer can bend. 
 
 " Work, work, work ! " 
 
 Who shall know it for a bow ? It is not 
 of yew-tree. It is straighter than a ray of 
 light ; flexibility is not known for one of 
 
 its qualities. LETTERS, p. 101. 
 
 work in Whether a man spends his day 
 
 spite of . iii/ 
 
 moods. m an ecstasy or despondency, he 
 must do some work to show for it, even as 
 there are flesh and bones to show for him. 
 We are superior to the joy we experience. 
 
 LETTERS, p. 103. 
 
 The loneii- Ah ! what foreign countries 
 
 ness of false 
 
 society. there are, greater in extent than 
 the United States or Russia, and with 
 no more souls to a square mile, stretching 
 away on every side from every human 
 being, with whom you have no sympathy. 
 . . . Rocks, earth, brute beasts, compara 
 tively, are not so strange to me. 
 
 LETTERS, p. 105. 
 
 When I sit in the parlors and kitchens 
 of some with whom my business brings me 
 I was going to say in contact (busi-
 
 SELECTIONS FKOM THOREAU. 73 
 
 ness, like misery, makes strange bedfel 
 lows), I feel a sort of awe, and as forlorn as 
 if I were cast away on a desolate shore. I 
 think of Riley s narrative and his suf 
 
 ferings. LETTERS, p. 105. 
 
 HOW finite You, who soared like a merlin 
 bo a k tes ess with y ur mate through the realms 
 of ether, in the presence of the 
 unlike drop at once to earth, a mere amor 
 phous squab, divested of your air-inflated 
 pinions. . . . You travel on, however, 
 through this dark and desert world ; you 
 see in the distance an intelligent and sym 
 pathizing lineament ; stars come forth in 
 the dark, and oases appear in the desert. 
 
 LETTERS, p. 105. 
 
 The friend I am gl a d to hear that I do not 
 limit our always limit your vision when you 
 look this way ; that you some 
 times see the light through me ; that I am 
 here and there windows, and not all dead 
 wall. Might not the community sometimes 
 petition a man to remove himself as a 
 nuisance, a darkener of the day, a too 
 
 large mOte ? LETTERS, p. 107.
 
 74 SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. 
 
 Humanity The best news you send me is, 
 Nature. not that Nature with you is so 
 fair and genial, but that there is one there 
 who likes her so well. That proves all that 
 
 Was asserted. LETTERS, p. in. 
 
 Things cor- I nave not yet learned to live, 
 ouThighest that I can see, and I fear that I 
 shall not very soon. I find, how 
 ever, that in the long run things corre 
 spond to my original idea, that they cor 
 respond to nothing else so much. 
 
 LETTERS, p. 113. 
 
 Courage. When an Indian is burned, his 
 
 body may be broiled, it may be no more 
 than a beefsteak. What of that ? They 
 may broil his Jicart, but they do not 
 therefore broil his courage, his princi 
 ples. Be of good courage ! That is the 
 
 main thing. LETTERS, p. 1 13. 
 
 Tothecour- ^ a man were to plaCC himself 
 
 burde ns a be- an attitude to bear manfully 
 come light. the greatest ev ji t hat can be in 
 flicted on him, he would find suddenly that 
 there was no such evil to bear ; his brave 
 back would go a-begging. . . . But as long
 
 SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. 75 
 
 as he crouches, and skulks, and shirks his 
 work, every creature that has weight will 
 be treading on his toes, and crushing him ; 
 he will himself tread with one foot on the 
 
 Other foot. LETTERS, p. 114. 
 
 Thedreadfui The monster is never just there 
 
 thing not ..... ,.... 
 
 outside of us. where we think he is. What is 
 truly monstrous is our cowardice and sloth. 
 
 LETTERS, p. 114. 
 
 The true Why should we ever go abroad, 
 
 adviser, even across the way, to ask a 
 neighbor s advice ? There is a nearer 
 neighbor within us incessantly telling us 
 how we should behave. But we wait for 
 the neighbor without to tell us of some 
 false, easier way. LETTERS, P . n 4 . 
 
 Fatal post- ^ n ever y one f these hoUSCS 
 
 ponement. t h c re is at least one man fighting 
 or squabbling a good part of his time with 
 a dozen pet demons of his own breeding and 
 cherishing, which are relentlessly gnawing 
 at his vitals ; and if perchance he resolve 
 at length that he will courageously combat 
 them, he says, " Ay ! Ay ! I will attend 
 to you after dinner." And, when that time
 
 76 SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. 
 
 comes, he concludes that he is good for 
 another stage, and reads a column or two 
 about the Eastern War ! LETTERS, P . u 5 . 
 
 we must At last one will say, "Let us 
 
 account for 
 
 our lives. see, how much wood did you burn, 
 sir ? " and I shall shudder to think that the 
 next question will be, " What did you do 
 while you were warm ? " Do we think the 
 ashes will pay for it ? that God is an ash 
 man ? It is a fact that we have got to ren 
 der an account for the deeds done in the 
 
 body. LETTERS, p. 115. 
 
 Sincerity is a great but rare virtue, and 
 we pardon to it much complaining, and the 
 betrayal of many weaknesses. LETTERS, p. u 7 . 
 
 simplicity To what end do I lead a simple 
 ?nfet life at all, pray? That I may 
 teach others to simplify their 
 lives ? and so all our lives be simplified 
 merely, like an algebraic formula ? Or not, 
 rather, that I may make use of the ground 
 I have cleared, to live more worthily and 
 
 profitably ? LETTERS, p. 117. 
 
 I would fain lay the most stress forever
 
 SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. fj 
 
 on that which is the most important, im 
 ports the most to me, though it were 
 only (what it is likely to be) a vibration in 
 
 the air. LETTERS, p. 118. 
 
 Themnun- I was glad to hear the other 
 
 tains within . 
 
 us. day that Higgmson and Brown 
 
 were gone to Ktaadn ; it must be so 
 much better to go to than a Woman s 
 Rights or Abolition Convention ; better 
 still, to the delectable, primitive mounts 
 within you, which you have dreamed of 
 from your youth up, and seen, perhaps, in 
 the horizon, but never climbed. 
 
 LETTERS, p. 118. 
 
 Poverty of A wa ^ over the crust to Asny- 
 fote u roa? nd bumsldt, standing there in its 
 inviting simplicity, is tempting to 
 think of, making a fire on the snow un 
 der some rock ! The very poverty of out 
 ward nature implies an inward wealth in the 
 walker. What a Golconda is he conversant 
 with, thawing his fingers over such a 
 
 blaze ! LETTERS, p. 137- 
 
 Helpful As for the dispute about soli 
 
 tude and society, any comparison
 
 78 SELecTiojvs FROM THOREAU. 
 
 is impertinent. It is an idling down on the 
 plain at the base of a mountain, instead of 
 climbing steadily to its top. Of course you 
 will be glad of all the society you can get 
 to go up with. Will you go to glory with 
 me ? is the burden of the song. LETTERS, p. 139. 
 
 & 
 
 It is not that we love to be alone, but 
 that we love to soar, and when we do 
 soar, the company grows thinner and thin 
 ner till there is none at all. It is either 
 the tribune on the plain, a sermon on the 
 mount, or a very private ecstasy still higher 
 up. We are not the less to aim at the 
 summits, though the multitude does not 
 ascend them. Use all the society that will 
 
 abet yOU. , LETTERS, p. 13$. 
 
 Gratitude I am grateful for what I am 
 
 for the sense . . 
 
 of existence, and have. My thanksgiving is 
 perpetual. It is surprising how contented 
 one can be with nothing definite, only a 
 sense of existence. LETTERS, P . MS 
 
 The doable- Methinks a certain polygamy 
 
 aessofour , , , , 
 
 with its troubles is the tate of 
 
 almost all men. They are married to two 
 wives, their genius (a celestial muse), and
 
 SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. fg 
 
 also to some fair daughter of the earth. 
 Unless these two were fast friends before 
 marriage, and so are afterward, there wiH 
 be but little peace in the house. 
 
 LTTTEK,?, 154- 
 
 It is a great satisfaction to find 
 that your oldest convictions are 
 permanent With regard to es- 
 s e r. ".:=.! s I have never had occasion to change 
 rr.y mind. . . . The aspect of the world 
 Y~r: :5 from year to year, as the landscape 
 is d ff-rently clothed, but I find that the 
 truth is still true, and I never regret any 
 emphasis it may have inspired. Ktaadn is 
 th :re still, but much more sorely my con 
 viction is there, resting with more than 
 mountain breadth and weight on the world, 
 the source still of fertilizing streams, and 
 affording glorious views from its summit 
 if I can get up to it again. 
 
 t. .-, . As for style of writing, if one 
 
 has anything to say, it drops from 
 him simply and directly, as a stone falls to 
 the ground. There are no two ways about 
 it, but down it comes, and he may stick in 
 the points and stops wherever he can get a
 
 80 SELECT/OXS FXO.V THOREAU. 
 
 chance. ... To try to polish the stone in 
 its descent, to give it a peculiar turn, and 
 make it whistle a tune, perchance would be 
 of no use, if it were possible, L*TT*S, p. 158. 
 
 jnuetitetor As some heads cannot earn, 
 * much wine, so it would seem that 
 
 I cannot bear so much society as you can. 
 I have an immense appetite for solitude, 
 like an infant for sleep, and if I don t get 
 enough of it this year, I shall cry all the 
 
 " C X t La limits, p. 160. 
 
 If you have been to the top of 
 Mdmher Mount Washington, let me ask, 
 
 than in the 
 
 thingdooe. What did you find there ? That 
 is the way they prove witnesses, you know. 
 Going up there and being blown on is noth- 
 :-_ \Vo never io much climbing while we 
 are there, but we eat our luncheon, etc., 
 very much as at home. It is after we get 
 home that we really go over the mountain, 
 if ever. WTiat did the mountain say ? 
 What did the mountain do ? LTTMS, P . 165. 
 
 B< wanned Now is the time to become con- 
 by activity. versan t with your wood-pile (this 
 comes under Work for the Month), and be
 
 SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. 8 1 
 
 sure you put some warmth into it by your 
 way of getting it. Do not consent to be 
 passively warmed. An intense degree of 
 that is the hotness that is threatened. But 
 a positive warmth within can withstand the 
 fiery furnace, as the vital heat of a living 
 man can withstand the heat that cooks 
 
 meat. Lmrmts, p. 167. 
 
 ?- : I have lately got back to that 
 
 - - i - 11 * < I- * 
 
 glorious society, called Solitude, 
 
 where we meet our friends continually, and 
 can imagine the outside world also to be 
 peopled. Yet some of my acquaintances 
 would fain hustle me into the almshouse 
 for the sake of society, as if I were pining 
 for that diet, when I seem to myself a 
 most befriended man, and find constant 
 employment. LXTTZSS, p. 173. 
 
 What a fool he must be who thinks that 
 his El Dorado is anywhere but where he 
 
 lives. Lcrms, p. 177. 
 
 - - ., . What a battle a man must fight 
 j^hfafcf everywhere to maintain his stand 
 ing army of thoughts, and march 
 
 with them in orderly array through the
 
 82 SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. 
 
 always hostile country ! How many ene 
 mies there are to sane thinking. Every 
 soldier has succumbed to them before he 
 enlists for those other battles. 
 
 LETTERS, p. 179. 
 
 The cost of It i s eas y enough to maintain a 
 KS family, or a state, but it is hard 
 thoughts. to ma i nta i n these children of your 
 brain (or say, rather, these guests that trust 
 to enjoy your hospitality), they make such 
 great demands ; and yet, he who does only 
 the former, and loses the power to think 
 originally, or as only he ever can, fails mis 
 erably. Keep up the fires of thought, and 
 
 all Will gO Well. LETTERS, p. 180. 
 
 Real success How Y ou can overrun a coun- 
 fsVn ou7 try, climb any rampart, and carry 
 thoughts. an y f ortresS) w j t h an armv O f 
 
 alert thoughts ! thoughts that send their 
 bullets home to heaven s door, with 
 which you can take the whole world, with 
 out paying for it, or robbing anybody. See, 
 the conquering hero comes ! You fail in 
 your thoughts, or you prevail in your 
 
 thoughts Only. LETTERS, p. 180.
 
 SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. 83 
 Thought a In your mind must be a liquor 
 
 solvent for 1-1 ,-, T 1 1 11 
 
 the world, which will dissolve the world 
 whenever it is dropt in it. There is no 
 universal solvent but this, and all things 
 together cannot saturate it. It will hold 
 the universe in solution, and yet be as 
 translucent as ever. LETTERS, P . 181. 
 
 Right think- Provided you think well, the 
 
 ing irresist- , , 
 
 ibie. heavens falling, or the earth ga 
 
 ping, will be music for you to march by. 
 No foe can ever see you, or you him ; you 
 cannot so much as think of him ; swords 
 have no edges, bullets no penetration, for 
 
 SUCh a COnteSt. LETTERS, p. 180. 
 
 The beauty Look at mankind. No great 
 Hfe m i s n er o y ur difference between two, appa- 
 thoughts. rently . perhaps the same height, 
 
 and breadth, and weight ; and yet, to the 
 man who sits most east, this life is a wea 
 riness, routine, dust and ashes, and he 
 drowns his imaginary cares (!) (a sort of fric 
 tion among his vital organs) in a bowl. But 
 to the man who sits most west, his contempo 
 rary (!), it is a field for all noble endeavors, 
 an elysium, the dwelling-place of heroes 
 and demigods. The former complains that
 
 84 SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. 
 
 he has a thousand affairs to attend to ; but 
 he does not realize that his affairs (though 
 they may be a thousand) and he are one. 
 
 LETTERS, p. 182. 
 
 Grade the What is the use of a house if 
 befor e d you y ou nave n>t got a tolerable pla 
 net to put it on ? if you cannot 
 tolerate the planet it is on ? Grade the 
 
 ground first. LETTERS, p. 183. 
 
 A man s ^ a man believes and expects 
 
 fopteHn r great things of himself, it makes 
 no odds where you put him, or 
 what you show him (of course you cannot 
 put him anywhere, nor show him anything), 
 he will be surrounded by grandeur. He 
 is in the condition of a healthy and hungry 
 man, who says to himself, How sweet 
 this crust is ! If he despairs of himself, 
 then Tophet is his dwelling-place, and he 
 is in the condition of a sick man who is 
 disgusted with the fruits of finest flavor. 
 
 LETTERS, p. 183. 
 
 Whether he sleeps or wakes, whether 
 he runs or walks, whether he uses a 
 microscope or a telescope, or his naked
 
 SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. 85 
 
 eye, a man never discovers anything, 
 never overtakes anything, or leaves any 
 thing behind, but himself. Whatever he 
 says or does, he merely reports himself. 
 
 LETTERS, p. 183. 
 
 Courage. Each reaching and aspiration is 
 an instinct with which all nature consists 
 and cooperates, and therefore it is not in 
 vain. But alas ! each relaxation and des 
 peration is an instinct too. To be active, 
 well, happy, implies rare courage. 
 
 LETTERS, p. 184. 
 
 success The fact is, you have got to take 
 
 de^o f nto th e world on your shoulders like 
 Atlas, and put along with it. 
 You will do this for an idea s sake, and 
 your success will be in proportion to your 
 devotion to ideas. It may make your back 
 ache occasionally, but you will have the 
 satisfaction of hanging it or twirling it to 
 suit yourself. Cowards suffer, heroes en 
 joy. After a long day s walk with it, pitch 
 it into a hollow place, sit down and eat 
 your luncheon. Unexpectedly, by some 
 immortal thoughts, you will be compen 
 sated. The bank whereon you sit will be
 
 86 SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. 
 
 a fragrant and flowery one, and your world 
 in the hollow, a sleek and light gazelle. 
 
 LETTERS, p. 184. 
 
 Explore the What is the use of going right 
 & m^dhii over the old track again ? There 
 
 your ways. 
 
 your own feet have worn. You must make 
 tracks into the Unknown. That is what 
 you have your board and clothes for. Why 
 do you ever mend your clothes, unless that, 
 wearing them, you may mend your ways. 
 
 LETTERS, p. 185. 
 
 One - s I am very busy, after my fash- 
 
 andSpa 1 ? ion, little as there is to show for 
 it, and feel as if I could not spend 
 many days nor dollars in traveling ; for the 
 shortest visit must have a fair margin to it, 
 and the days thus affect the weeks, you 
 know. Nevertheless, we cannot forego 
 these luxuries altogether. LETTERS, P . 187. 
 
 The shallow- This life is not for complaint, 
 
 ness of .... A 
 
 complaint, but for satisfaction. . . . Any 
 complaint / have to make is too serious to 
 be uttered, for the evil cannot be mended. 
 
 LETTERS, p. i8S.
 
 SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. 8/ 
 
 unconscious How wholesome winter is, seen 
 
 goodness. f ar or near . fo QW good, aboVC 
 
 all mere sentimental, warm-blooded, short 
 lived, soft-hearted, moral goodness, com 
 monly so-called. Give me the goodness 
 which has forgotten its own deeds, - 
 which God has seen to be good, and let 
 
 be. LETTERS, p. 194. 
 
 What business have you, if you are " an 
 angel of light," to be pondering over the 
 deeds of darkness, reading the " New York 
 Herald " and the like ? LETTERS, P . 195. 
 
 I will not doubt the love untold 
 
 Which not my worth nor want hath bought, 
 
 Which wooed me young, and woos me 
 
 old, 
 And to this evening hath me brought. 
 
 LETTERS, p. 219. 
 
 The ideal of E very walk is a sort of crusade, 
 preached by some Peter the Her 
 mit in us, to go forth and reconquer this 
 Holy Land from the hands of the Infidels. 
 
 EXCURSIONS, p. 162.
 
 88 SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. 
 
 Atnie No wealth can buy the requi- 
 
 r o al by er the ade site leisure, freedom, and inde- 
 
 graceofGod. pendence) which are the cap i ta l 
 
 in this profession. It comes only by the 
 grace of God. It requires a direct dispen 
 sation from Heaven to become a walker. 
 
 EXCURSIONS, p. 163. 
 
 True walk- The walking of which I speak 
 
 ing is not for .... 
 
 exercise. has nothing in it akin to taking 
 exercise, as it is called, as the sick take 
 medicine at stated hours, as the swing 
 ing of dumb-bells or chairs ; but is itself 
 the enterprise and adventure of the day. 
 If you would get exercise, go in search of 
 the springs of life. Think of a man s 
 swinging dumb-bells for his health, when 
 those springs are bubbling up in far-off 
 pastures unsought by him. EXCURSIONS, p. 166. 
 
 Worldly I n m y walks I would fain re- 
 
 gotten f( ina turn to m y senses. What busi 
 ness have I in the woods, if I 
 am thinking of something out of the 
 woods ? I suspect myself, and cannot help 
 a shudder, when I find myself so implicated 
 even in what are called good works, for 
 this may sometimes happen. 
 
 EXCURSIONS, p. 169.
 
 SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. 89 
 
 The interest An absolutely new prospect is a 
 
 of a new . 
 
 prospect. great happiness, and 1 can get 
 this any afternoon. ... A single farm 
 house which I had not seen before is 
 sometimes as good as the dominions of the 
 King of Dahomey. EXCURSIONS, p. 169. 
 
 Nature P re- From many a hill I can see 
 
 vails over . ... . , , j r 
 
 man in a civilization and the abodes or 
 scape. man afar. The farmers and their 
 works are scarcely more obvious than 
 wood-chucks and their burrows. Man and 
 his affairs, church and state and school, 
 trade and commerce, and manufactures and 
 agriculture, even politics, the most alarm 
 ing of them all, I am pleased to see how 
 little space they occupy in the landscape. 
 
 EXCURSIONS, p. 170. 
 
 To enjoy a thing exclusively is commonly 
 to exclude yourself from the true enjoy 
 
 ment of it. EXCURSIONS, p. 175. 
 
 The charm There are some intervals which 
 
 ofwildness. 
 
 thrush, to which I would migrate, wild 
 lands where no settler has squatted, to 
 to which, methinks, I am already accli 
 
 mated. EXCURSIONS, p. 186.
 
 90 SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. 
 
 Thejnost Life consists with wildness. 
 
 alive, the . 
 
 wildest. I he most alive is the wildest. 
 Not yet subdued to man, its presence re 
 freshes him. One who pressed forward 
 incessantly and never rested from his labors, 
 who grew fast and made infinite demands 
 on life, would always find himself in a new 
 country or wilderness, and surrounded by 
 the raw material of life. EXCURSIONS, p. 187. 
 
 Theattrac- I derive more of my subsis- 
 
 tiveness of . , , . , 
 
 swamps. tence from the swamps which sur 
 round my native town than from the culti 
 vated gardens in the village. There are 
 no richer pastures to my eyes than the 
 dense beds of dwarf andromcda which 
 cover these tender places on the earth s 
 
 Surface. EXCURSIONS, p. 188. 
 
 My spirits infallibly rise in proportion to 
 the outward dreariness. Give me the 
 ocean, the desert, or the wilderness. 
 
 EXCURSIONS, p. 189. 
 
 wild think- It is the uncivilized, free, and 
 
 ing delights . . . . . . ., . , 
 
 us. wild thinking in Hamlet and 
 
 the " Iliad," in all the Scriptures and My 
 thologies, not learned in the schools, that 
 
 delights US. EXCURSIONS, p. 193.
 
 SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. 91 
 
 wiidness of A truly good book is something 
 books. as natural and as unexpectedly 
 and unaccountably fair and perfect as a wild 
 flower discovered on the prairies of the West 
 or in the jungles of the East. EXCURSIONS, p. 193. 
 
 NO poetry I do not know of any poetry to 
 Naulre. as quote which adequately expresses 
 this yearning for the Wild. Approached 
 from this side, the best poetry is tame. I 
 do not know where to find in any literature, 
 ancient or modern, any account which con 
 tents me of that Nature with which even I 
 am acquainted. EXCURSIONS, p. 195. 
 
 The soul By long years of patient indus- 
 
 saence. try and reading of the newspa 
 pers, for what are the libraries of science 
 but files of newspapers ? a man accumu 
 lates a myriad facts, lays them up in his 
 memory, and then when in some spring of 
 his life he scampers abroad into the Great 
 Fields of thought, he, as it were, goes to 
 grass like a horse, and leaves all his har 
 ness behind in the stable. EXCURSIONS, p. 203. 
 
 Knowledge A man s ignorance sometimes 
 wTsffhan is not only useful, but beautiful, 
 ignorance. _ while his knowledge, so called,
 
 92 SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. 
 
 is oftentimes worse than useless, besides 
 being ugly. Which is the best man to 
 deal with, he who knows nothing about 
 a subject, and, what is extremely rare, 
 knows that he knows nothing, or he who 
 really knows something about it, but thinks 
 that he knows all ? EXCURSIONS, p. 204. 
 
 Aim above M Y desire for knowledge is in- 
 
 knowledge. 
 
 my head in atmospheres unknown to my 
 feet is perennial and constant. The high 
 est that we can attain to is not Knowledge, 
 but Sympathy with Intelligence. 
 
 EXCURSIONS, p. 204. 
 
 Free and "That is active duty," says 
 
 acdvify, the tne Vishnu Purana, "which is not 
 for our bondage ; that is know 
 ledge which is for our liberation ; all other 
 duty is good only unto weariness ; all other 
 knowledge is only the cleverness of an 
 
 artist. EXCURSIONS, p. 205. 
 
 A border F r mV P art > I ^ Ce ^ tnat 
 
 NaturS regard to Nature I live a sort of 
 
 border life, on the confines of a 
 
 world into which I make occasional and
 
 SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. 93 
 
 transient forays only, and my patriotism 
 and allegiance to the State into whose 
 territories I seem to retreat are those of 
 a moss-trooper. EXCURSIONS, p. 2 o 7 . 
 
 vision The walker in the familiar fields 
 
 works g of the which stretch around my native 
 ^dn ess of town sometimes finds himself in 
 another land than is described in 
 their owners deeds. . . . These farms . . . 
 have no chemistry to fix them ; they fade 
 from the surface of the glass, and the pic 
 ture which the painter painted stands out 
 dimly from beneath. EXCURSIONS, p. 207. 
 
 The realm We are accustomed to say in 
 laid waste New England that few and fewer 
 
 by worldly ... .~ 
 
 living. pigeons visit us every year. Our 
 forests furnish no mast for them. So, it 
 would seem, few and fewer thoughts visit 
 each growing man from year to year, for 
 the grove in our minds is laid waste, 
 sold to feed unnecessary fires of ambition, 
 or sent to mill, and there is scarcely a twig 
 left for them to perch on. EXCURSIONS, P . 209 . 
 
 The great So we saunter toward the Holy 
 
 fe val ue Land . til] One da Y the SUn sha11 
 
 shine more brightly than ever he
 
 94 SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. 
 
 has done, shall perchance shine into our 
 minds and hearts, and light up our whole 
 lives with a great awakening light, as warm 
 and serene and golden as on a bank-side in 
 
 autumn. EXCURSIONS, p. 214. 
 
 Thecompii- Th e greatest compliment that 
 ^g n one f s va u " was ever P a id me was when one 
 asked me what / thought, and at 
 tended to my answer. I am surprised as 
 well as delighted when this happens, it is 
 such a rare use he would make of me, as if 
 he were acquainted with the tool. 
 
 YANKEE IN CANADA, ETC., p. 248. 
 
 The glory of This world is a place of busi 
 ness. What an infinite bustle! 
 I am awaked almost every night by the 
 panting of the locomotive. It interrupts 
 my dreams. There is no sabbath. It 
 would be glorious to see mankind at leisure 
 
 for Once. YANKEE IN CANADA, ETC., p. 249. 
 
 outdoor We must go out and re-ally our 
 
 selves to Nature every day. We 
 must make root, send out some little fibre 
 at least, even every winter day. I am sen 
 sible that I am imbibing health when I
 
 SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. 95 
 
 open my mouth to the wind. Staying in 
 the house breeds a sort of insanity always. 
 Every house is, in this sense, a sort of hos 
 pital. A night and a forenoon is as much 
 confinement to those wards as I can stand. 
 I am aware that I recover some sanity 
 which I had lost, almost the instant that I 
 come abroad. WINTER, p. 57. 
 
 The evil of To have done anything by which 
 money g vou earned money merely is to 
 have been truly idle or worse. If 
 the laborer gets no more than the wages 
 which his employer pays him, he is cheated ; 
 he cheats himself. 
 
 YANKEE IN CANADA, ETC., p. 251. 
 
 "Work for The aim of the laborer should 
 
 work s sake." ^ nQt tQ get ^ li v j ng) to g et a 
 
 good job," but to perform well a certain 
 work. . . . Do not hire a man who does 
 your work for money, but him who does it 
 
 for love of it. YANKEE IN CANADA, ETC., p. 252. 
 
 Thetmiy The community has no bribe 
 
 man. that will tempt a wise man. You 
 
 may raise money enough to tunnel a moun 
 tain, but you cannot raise money enough
 
 96 SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. 
 
 to hire a man who is minding his own 
 business. An efficient and valuable man 
 does what he can, whether the community 
 pay him for it or not. 
 
 YANKEE IN CANADA, ETC., p. 253. 
 
 Artificial Perhaps I am more than usually 
 
 lave us. jealous with respect to my free 
 dom. ... If my wants should be much in 
 creased, the labor required to supply them 
 would become a drudgery. If I should sell 
 both my forenoons and afternoons to so 
 ciety, as most appear to do, I am sure that 
 for me there would be nothing left worth 
 living for. I trust that I shall never thus 
 sell my birthright for a mess of pottage. 
 
 YANKEE IN CANADA, ETC., p. 253. 
 
 The constant As for the comparative demand 
 
 elevation of ... ,.,... 
 
 which men make on life, it is an 
 
 our aim. 
 
 important difference between two, that one 
 is satisfied with a level success, that his 
 marks can all be hit by point-blank shots, 
 but the other, however low and unsuccess 
 ful his life may be, constantly elevates his 
 aim, though at a very slight angle to the 
 
 horizon. YANKEE IN CANADA, ETC., p. 254.
 
 SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. 97 
 
 Living and It is remarkable that there is 
 fivin jfshouid little or nothing to be remembered 
 beautiful. written on the subject of getting 
 a living : how to make getting a living not 
 merely honest and honorable, but altogether 
 inviting and glorious ; for if getting a living 
 is not so, then living is not. 
 
 YANKEE IN CANADA, ETC., p. 254. 
 
 Cold and hunger seem more friendly to 
 my nature than those methods which men 
 have adopted and advise to ward them off. 
 
 YANKEE IN CANADA, ETC., p. 255. 
 
 The ordinary The Wa Y S in whi ch mOSt men 
 
 edng of g et their living, that is, live, are 
 hostne s to mere make-shifts, and a shirking 
 of the real business of life, chiefly 
 because they do not know, but partly be 
 cause they do not mean, any better. 
 
 YANKEE IN CANADA, ETC., p. 255. 
 
 A grain of gold will gild a great surface, 
 but not so much as a grain of wisdom. 
 
 YANKEE IN CANADA, ETC., p. 257. 
 
 where alone Men rusn to California and 
 
 themzegold 
 
 to be found in that direction ; but
 
 98 SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. 
 
 that is to go to the very opposite extreme 
 to where it lies. ... Is not our native soil 
 auriferous ? Does not a stream from the 
 golden mountains flow through our native 
 valley ? and has not this for more than 
 geologic ages been bringing down the 
 shining particles and forming the nuggets 
 
 for US ? YANKEE IN CANADA, ETC., p. 258. 
 
 what shall it A man had Better starve at once 
 
 f/he shaT" tnan l se h* s innocence in the 
 ^hoie h worid, process of getting his bread. If 
 within the sophisticated man there 
 is not an unsophisticated one, then he is 
 but one of the Devil s angels. As we grow 
 old we live more coarsely, we relax a little 
 in our disciplines, and, to some extent, cease 
 to obey our finest instincts. But we should 
 be fastidious to the extreme of sanity, dis 
 regarding the gibes of those who are more 
 unfortunate than ourselves. 
 
 YANKEE IN CANADA, ETC., p. 260. 
 
 The limited I hardly know an intellectual 
 men. man, even, who is so broad and 
 
 truly liberal that you can think aloud in his 
 society. Most with whom you endeavor 
 to talk soon come to a stand against some
 
 SELECTION S FROM THOREAU. 99 
 
 institution in which they appear to hold 
 stock, that is, some particular, not uni 
 versal, way of viewing things. They will 
 continually thrust their own low roof, with 
 its narrow skylight, between you and the 
 sky, when it is the unobstructed heavens 
 you would view. 
 
 YANKEE IN CANADA, ETC., p. 261. 
 
 Religion I n some lyceums they tell me 
 
 language of that they have voted to exclude 
 the subject of religion. But how 
 do I know what their religion is, and when 
 I am near to it or far from it ? I have 
 walked into such an arena and done my 
 best to make a clean breast of what reli 
 gion I have experienced, and the audience 
 never suspected what I was about. 
 
 YANKEE IN CANADA, ETC., p. 261. 
 
 The low I ften accuse my finest ac- 
 
 demandwe quaintanccs of an immense fri- 
 
 rna.Ke upon i 
 
 each other. vo iity ; for, while there are man 
 ners and compliments we do not meet, 
 we do not teach one another the lessons 
 of honesty and sincerity that the brutes 
 do, or of steadiness and solidity that the 
 rocks do. The fault is commonly mutual,
 
 100 SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. 
 
 however ; for we do not habitually demand 
 any more of each other. 
 
 YANKEE IN CANADA, ETC., p. 262. 
 
 shallow When our life ceases to be in- 
 
 mtercourse. warc j an( | p r i va te, conversation 
 
 degenerates into mere gossip. We rarely 
 meet a man who can tell us any news 
 which he has not read in a newspaper, or 
 been told by his neighbor ; and, for the 
 most part, the only difference between us 
 and our fellow is, that he has seen the 
 newspaper, or been out to tea, and we have 
 
 not. YANKEE IN CANADA, ETC., p. 263. 
 
 Lifesacn- I do not know but it is too 
 newspaper, much to read one newspaper a 
 week. I have tried it recently, and for so 
 long it seems to me that I have not dwelt 
 in my native region. The sun, the clouds, 
 the snow, the trees say not so much to me. 
 You cannot serve two masters. It requires 
 more than a day s devotion to know and to 
 possess the wealth of a day. 
 
 YANKEE IN CANADA, ETC., p. 263. 
 
 A world If y u chance to live and move 
 
 that ff the ar >d have your being in that thin 
 
 newspaper. stratum J n ^J^ t h e CVCntS that
 
 SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. IOI 
 
 make the news transpire, thinner than 
 the paper on which it is printed, then 
 these things will fill the world for you ; but 
 if you soar above or dive below that plane, 
 you cannot remember nor be reminded of 
 
 them. YANKEE IN CANADA, ETC., p. 264. 
 
 The mind I am astonished to observe how 
 
 not to be . . 
 
 desecrated willing men are . . . to permit idle 
 
 by gossip 
 
 and affairs, rumors and incidents of the most 
 insignificant kind to intrude on ground 
 which should be sacred to thought. Shall 
 the mind be a public arena, where the af 
 fairs of the street and the gossip of the 
 tea-table chiefly are discussed ? Or shall 
 it be a quarter of heaven itself, an hy- 
 paethral temple, consecrated to the service 
 
 of the gods ? YANKEE IN CANADA, ETC., p. 265. 
 
 intellectual It is important to preserve the 
 
 and moral . . , 
 
 suicide. mind s chastity. . . . Think of ad 
 mitting the details of a single case of the 
 criminal court into our thoughts, to stalk 
 profanely through their very sanctum sanc 
 torum for an hour, ay, for many hours ! 
 to make a very bar-room of the mind s in 
 most apartment, as if for so long the very 
 dust of the street had occupied us, the
 
 IO2 SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. 
 
 very street itself, with all its travel, its 
 bustle, and filth, had passed through our 
 thoughts shrine ! Would it not be an in 
 tellectual and moral suicide ? 
 
 YANKEE IN CANADA, ETC., p. 265. 
 
 Let your ^ I am to be a thoroughfare, I 
 
 JTpen ufthe prefer that it be of the mountain 
 brooks, Parnassian streams, and 
 not the town sewers. There is inspiration, 
 that gossip which comes to the ear of the 
 attentive mind from the courts of heaven. 
 There is the profane and stale revelation 
 of the bar-room and the police court. The 
 same ear is fitted to receive both commu 
 nications. Only the character of the hear 
 er determines to which it shall be opened, 
 and to which closed. 
 
 YANKEE IN CANADA, ETC., p. 266. 
 
 Science Even the facts of science may 
 
 aKoin- dust the mind by their dryness, 
 spirauon. un i ess th e y are in a sense effaced 
 each morning, or rather rendered fertile by 
 the dews of fresh and living truth. Know 
 ledge does not come to us by details, but 
 in flashes of light from heaven. 
 
 YANKEE IN CANADA, ETC., p. 267.
 
 SELECTIONS FROM THOKEAU. 103 
 
 Political Do we call this the land of the 
 
 freedom but ... . 
 
 a means. free ? . . . What is the value of 
 any political freedom but as a means to 
 moral freedom ? . . . It is our children s 
 children who may perchance be really free. 
 
 YANKEE IN CANADA, ETC, p. 268. 
 
 We quarter our gross bodies on our poor 
 souls, till the former eat up all the latter s 
 
 Substance. YANKEE IN CANADA, ETC., p. 268. 
 
 Manners It is the vice . . . of manners 
 
 apart from . - . .. , . 
 
 character. that they are continually being 
 deserted by the character ; they are cast- 
 off clothes or shells, claiming the respect 
 which belonged to the living creature. . . . 
 The man who thrusts his manners upon 
 me does as if he were to insist on intro 
 ducing me to his cabinet of curiosities 
 when I wished to see himself. It was not 
 in this sense that the poet Decker called 
 Christ "the first true gentleman that ever 
 
 breathed. YANKEE IN CANADA, ETC., p. 269. 
 
 The most The chief want, in every State 
 ducuonsof that I have been into, was a high 
 and earnest purpose in its inhabi 
 tants. , . When we want culture more
 
 104 SELECTIONS FROM THOKEAU. 
 
 than potatoes, and illumination more than 
 sugar-plums, then the great resources of a 
 world are taxed and drawn out, and the 
 result, or staple production, is, not slaves, 
 nor operatives, but men, those rare fruits 
 called heroes, saints, poets, philosophers, 
 
 and redeemers. YANKEE IN CANADA, ETC., p. 271. 
 
 Truth and 
 
 institutions. 
 
 3. snow-drift is formed where 
 
 would say, where there is a lull of truth, an 
 institution springs up. But the truth blows 
 right on over it, nevertheless, and at length 
 
 bloWS it down. YANKEE IN CANADA, ETC., p. 271. 
 
 The author- Poetry is so universally true 
 
 ship of f 
 
 poetry. and independent 01 experience 
 that it does not need any particular biog 
 raphy to illustrate it, but we refer it sooner 
 or later to some Orpheus or Linus, and 
 after ages to the genius of humanity, and 
 the gods themselves. WEEK, P . 102. 
 
 Hours above We should be at the helm at 
 least once a day. The whole of 
 the day should not be daytime ; there 
 should be one hour, if not more, when the 
 day did not bring forth. WEEK, P . 103.
 
 SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. 1 05 
 
 Read the best books first, or you may 
 not have a chance to read them at all. 
 
 WEEK, p. 103. 
 
 Thehibema- The poet is he that hath fat 
 poet. enough, like bears and marmots, 
 
 to suck his claws all winter. He hiber 
 nates in this world, and feeds on his own 
 marrow, ... is ... a sort of dormouse 
 gone into winter quarters of deep and se 
 rene thoughts, insensible to surrounding 
 circumstances ; his words are the relation 
 of his oldest and finest memory, a wisdom 
 drawn from the remotest experience. Other 
 men lead a starved existence, meanwhile, 
 like hawks that would fain keep on the 
 wing and trust to pick up a sparrow now 
 and then. WEEK, P . 106. 
 
 The rarity of A perfectly healthy sentence 
 
 perfect ex- . . 
 
 pression. is ... extremely rare. For the 
 most part we miss the hue and fragrance 
 of the thought ; as if we could be satisfied 
 with the dews of morning or evening with 
 out their colors, or the heavens without 
 their azure. WEEK, p. no.
 
 106 SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. 
 
 are O f ten struck by the 
 ma y hep force and precision of style to 
 which hard-working men, unprac 
 tised in writing, easily attain, when re 
 quired to make the effort ; as if plainness 
 and vigor and sincerity, the ornaments of 
 style, were better learned on the farm and 
 in the workshop than in the schools. 
 
 WEEK, p. 113. 
 
 Hours of Some hours seem not to be 
 
 resolution. occas j on f or any dccd> but f Qr 
 
 resolves to draw breath in. We do not 
 directly go about the execution of the pur 
 pose that thrills us, but shut our doors be 
 hind us and ramble with prepared mind, as 
 if the half were already done. Our reso 
 lution is taking root or hold . . . then, as 
 seeds first send a shoot downward, which 
 is fed by their own albumen, ere they send 
 one upward to the light. WEEK, P . u S . 
 
 Few speak The scholar is not apt to make 
 eugh of his most familiar experience come 
 gracefully to the aid of his ex 
 pression. Very few men can speak of 
 Nature, for instance, with any truth. They 
 overstep her modesty somehow or other,
 
 SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. IO/ 
 
 and confer no favor. They do not speak 
 a good word for her. . . . The surliness 
 with which the woodchopper speaks of 
 his woods, handling them indifferently as 
 his axe, is better than the mealy-mouthed 
 enthusiasm of the lover of nature. Better 
 that the primrose by the river s brim be a 
 yellow primrose and nothing more, than 
 that it be something less. WEEK, P . n S . 
 
 Always room A good book will never have 
 
 for a true r . 
 
 book. been forestalled, but the topic 
 
 itself will in one sense be new, and its 
 author, by consulting with Nature, will con 
 sult not only with those who have gone be 
 fore, but with those who may come after. 
 There is always room and occasion enough 
 for a true book on any subject, as there is 
 room for more light the brightest day, and 
 more rays will not interfere with the first. 
 
 WEEK, p. 116. 
 
 Good and One sailor was visited in his 
 
 bad sleep. Breams this night by the Evil 
 Destinies, and all those powers that are 
 hostile to human life, which constrain and 
 oppress the minds of men, and make their 
 path seem difficult and narrow, and beset
 
 IO8 SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. 
 
 with dangers. . . . But the other hap 
 pily passed a serene and even ambrosial 
 or immortal night, and his sleep was dream 
 less, or only the atmosphere of pleasant 
 dreams remained, a happy, natural sleep 
 until the morning, and his cheerful spirit 
 soothed and reassured his brother, for 
 whenever they meet, the Good Genius is 
 sure to prevail. WEEK, P . 123. 
 
 Thesigmfi- When we are in health, all 
 music. sounds fife and drum for us ; we 
 hear the notes of music in the air, or catch 
 its echoes dying away when we awake in 
 the dawn. Marching is when the pulse of 
 the hero beats in unison with the pulse 
 of Nature, and he steps to the measure of 
 the universe ; then there is true courage 
 and invincible strength. WEEK, P . is s . 
 
 Music is the sound of the universal laws 
 promulgated. It is the only assured tone. 
 There are in it such strains as far surpass 
 any man s faith in the loftiness of his des 
 tiny. WEEK, p. 185. 
 
 History not We should read history as little 
 critically. critically as we consider the land-
 
 SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. IOQ 
 
 scape, and be more interested by the at 
 mospheric tints and various lights and 
 shades which the intervening spaces cre 
 ate, than by its groundwork and composi 
 tion. It is the morning now turned even 
 ing and seen in the west, the same sun, 
 but a new light and atmosphere. ... In 
 reality, history fluctuates as the face of the 
 landscape from morning to evening. What 
 is of moment is its hue and color . . . ; we 
 want not its then, but its now. We do not 
 complain that the mountains in the horizon 
 are blue and indistinct ; they are the more 
 like the heavens. WEEK, P . :6 4 . 
 
 Divine What are threescore years and 
 
 ten, hurriedly and coarsely lived, 
 to moments of divine leisure, in which your 
 life is coincident with the life of the uni 
 verse ? We live too fast and coarsely, just 
 as we eat too fast, and do not know the 
 true savor of our food. We consult our 
 will and our understanding and the expec 
 tation of men, not our genius. I can im 
 pose upon myself tasks which will crush 
 me for life and prevent all expansion, and 
 this I am but too inclined to do. 
 
 WINTER, p. 45.
 
 1 10 SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. 
 
 The muse The loftiest strains of the muse 
 too plaintive. aY ^ for the most ^^ sublimely 
 
 plaintive, and not a carol as free as na 
 ture s. The contest which the sun shines 
 to celebrate from morning to evening is 
 unsung. The muse solaces herself, and is 
 not ravished, but consoled. . . . But in 
 Homer and Chaucer there is more of the 
 serenity and innocence of youth than in 
 the more modern and moral poets. 
 
 WEEK, p. 389. 
 
 A spomane- To th e innocent there are nei- 
 cencTabove ther cherubims nor angels. At 
 rare intervals we rise above the 
 necessity of virtue into an unchangeable 
 morning light, in which we have only to 
 live right on and breathe the ambrosial 
 
 air. WEEK, p. 390. 
 
 There is no wisdom that can take place 
 of humanity. WEEK, P . 39 i. 
 
 Each deed Our whole lif e is taxed for the 
 oy thTwhlie least thing well done. It is its 
 net result. How we eat, drink, 
 sleep, and use our desultory hours now in 
 these indifferent days, with no eye to ob-
 
 SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. Ill 
 
 serve and no occasion to excite us, deter 
 mines our authority and capacity for the 
 
 time tO COme. EARLY SPRING, p. 22. 
 
 A friend s ^ friend advises by his whole 
 behavior, and never condescends 
 to particulars. Another chides away a 
 fault, he loves it away. While he sees the 
 other s error, he is silently conscious of it, 
 and only the more loves truth itself, and 
 assists his friend in loving it, till the fault 
 is expelled and gently extinguished. 
 
 EARLY SPRING, p. 28. 
 
 A lesson Simplicity is the law of nature 
 
 from the . urn 
 
 flowers. for men as well as for flowers. 
 When the tapestry (corolla) of the nuptial 
 bed (calyx) is excessive, luxuriant, it is un 
 productive. . . . Such a flower has no true 
 progeny, and can only be reproduced by 
 the humble mode of cuttings from its stem 
 or roots. . . . The fertile flowers are single, 
 
 not double. EARLY SPRING, p. 28. 
 
 The source l have thoughts, as I walk, on 
 
 above u o g u h r- some subject that is running in 
 
 my head, but all their pertinence 
 
 seems gone before I can get home to set
 
 112 SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. 
 
 them down. The most valuable thoughts 
 which I entertain are anything but what 7 
 thought. Nature abhors a vacuum, and if 
 I can only walk with sufficient carelessness 
 
 I am SUre tO be filled. EARLY SPRING, p. 34. 
 
 There must There can be no good reading 
 hearing to unless there is good hearing also. 
 
 make a good _ . 
 
 reader. It takes two, at least, for this 
 game, as for love, and they must coope 
 rate. EARLY SPRING, p. 52. 
 
 Anadvan- The birds I heard [to-day], 
 
 tageofigno- . 
 
 ranee. which, fortunately, did not come 
 
 within the scope of my science, sang as 
 freshly as if it had been the first morning 
 of creation, and had for background to their 
 song an untrodden wilderness stretching 
 through many a Carolina and Mexico of 
 
 the SOul. EARLY SPRING, p. 55. 
 
 The stan- We forget to strive and aspire, 
 
 dard within 
 
 us. to do better even than is expected 
 
 of us. I cannot stay to be congratulated. 
 I would leave the world behind me. . . . 
 To please our friends and relatives we turn 
 out our silver ore in cartloads, while we 
 neglect to work our mines of gold known 
 only to ourselves, far up in the Sierras,
 
 SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. 113 
 
 where we pulled up a bush in our mountain 
 walk, and saw the glittering treasure. Let 
 us return thither. Let it be the price of 
 our freedom to make that known. 
 
 WINTER, p. 169. 
 
 unconscious We reprove each other uncon 
 sciously by our own behavior. 
 Our very carriage and demeanor in the 
 streets should be a reprimand that will go 
 to the conscience of every beholder. An 
 infusion of love from a great soul gives a 
 color to our faults which will discover them 
 as lunar caustic detects impurities in water. 
 The best will not seem to go contrary to 
 others ; but as if they could afford to travel 
 the same way, they go a parallel but higher 
 course. Jonson says, 
 
 " That to the vulgar canst thyself apply, 
 Treading a better path, not contrary." 
 
 EARLY SPRING, p. 56. 
 
 We must How can our love increase un- 
 
 friend a r s we ^ ess ur loveliness increases also ? 
 We must securely love each other 
 as we love God, with no more danger that 
 our love be unrequited or ill bestowed. 
 There is that in my friend before which I 
 must first decay and prove untrue. 
 
 EARLY SPRING, p. 62.
 
 114 SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. 
 
 Respectyour Impulse is, after all, the best 
 impulses. linguist; its logic, if not confor- 
 mable to Aristotle, cannot fail to be most 
 convincing. The nearer we can approach 
 to a complete but simple transcript of our 
 thought, the more tolerable will be the 
 piece, for we can endure to consider our 
 selves in a state of passivity or in involun 
 tary action, but rarely can we endure to 
 consider our efforts, and least of all, our 
 
 rare efforts. EARLY SPRING, p. 77. 
 
 Essential We must not expect to probe 
 
 life not to . . e 
 
 be probed, with our nngcrs the sanctuary of 
 any life, whether animal or vegetable. If 
 we do, we shall discover nothing but sur 
 face still. The ultimate expression or fruit 
 of any created thing is a fine effluence, 
 which only the most ingenuous worshiper 
 perceives at a reverent distance from its 
 surface even. . . . Only that intellect 
 makes any progress toward conceiving of 
 the essence which at the same time per 
 ceives the effluence. EARLY SPRING, p. 83. 
 
 NO ripeness There is no ripeness which is 
 
 merely the .. . . . 
 
 means. not, so to speak, something ulti 
 mate in itself, and not merely a perfected
 
 SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. 115 
 
 means to a higher end. In order to be 
 ripe it must serve a transcendent use. The 
 ripeness of a leaf, being perfected, leaves 
 the tree at that point, and never returns 
 
 to it. EARLY SPRING, p. 84. 
 
 Music has A history of music would be 
 
 no history. jj^ the history of the f lltUFC, f OF 
 
 so little past is it and capable of record 
 that it is but the hint of a prophecy. ... It 
 has no history more than God. . . . Pro 
 perly speaking, there can be no history but 
 natural history, for there is no past in the 
 soul, but in nature. ... I might as well 
 write the history of my aspirations. 
 
 EARLY SPRING, p. 85. 
 
 The warbie The bluebird on the apple-tree, 
 
 of the blue- , , . . , . . 
 
 bird. warbling so innocently, to inquire 
 
 if any of its mates are within call, the 
 angel of the spring ! Fair and innocent, 
 yet the offspring of the earth. The color 
 of the sky, above, and of the subsoil, be 
 neath, suggesting what sweet and innocent 
 melody, terrestrial melody, may have its 
 birthplace between the sky and the ground. 
 
 EARLY SPRING, p. no.
 
 Il6 SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. 
 
 Content- We can only live healthily the 
 
 [heiife^ life th e gods assign us. I must 
 us receive my life as passively as the 
 willow leaf that flutters over the brook. I 
 must not be for myself, but God s work, 
 and that is always good. . . . My fate can 
 not but be grand so. We may live the life 
 of a plant or an animal without living an 
 animal life. This constant and universal 
 content of the animal comes of resting 
 
 quietly in God s palm. EARLY SPRING, p. in. 
 
 The delight My friend! my friend! ... To 
 courlfwith address thee delights me, there 
 is such clearness in the delivery. 
 I am delivered of my tale, which, told to 
 strangers, still would linger in my life as if 
 untold, or doubtful how it ran. 
 
 EARLY SPRING, p. 112. 
 
 Real wealth. I wish so to live ever as to derive 
 my satisfactions and inspirations from the 
 commonest events, every-day phenomena, 
 so that what my senses hourly perceive in 
 my daily walk, the conversations of my 
 neighbors, may inspire me, and I may 
 dream of no heaven but that which lies 
 about me. ... I do not wish my native soil
 
 SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. 1 1/ 
 
 to become exhausted and run out through 
 neglect. Only that traveling is good which 
 reveals to me the value of home, and enables 
 me to enjoy it better. That man is the 
 richest whose pleasures are the cheapest. 
 
 EARLY SPRING, p. 114. 
 Solitude and MrS - A - takes On dolefully On 
 
 account of the solitude in which 
 she lives ; but she gets little consolation. 
 Mrs. B. says she envies her that retirement. 
 Mrs. A. is aware that she does, and says it 
 is as if a thirsty man should envy another 
 the river in which he is drowning. So goes 
 the world. It is either this extreme or 
 that. Of solitude, one gets too much ; 
 
 another, not enough. EARLY SPRING,?. 116. 
 
 Turn The scholar finds in his experi- 
 
 tovvards the 
 
 light. ence some studies to be most fer 
 
 tile and radiant with light, others, dry, 
 barren, and dark. If he is wise he will not 
 persevere in the last, as a plant in a cel 
 lar will strive towards the light. . . . Dwell 
 as near as possible to the channel in which 
 your life flows. A man may associate with 
 such companions, he may pursue such em-
 
 Il8 SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. 
 
 ployments, as will darken the day for him. 
 Men choose darkness rather than light. 
 
 EARLY SPRING, p. 121. 
 
 The solitude How alone must our life be 
 
 of a human ,. , , 
 
 soul. lived. We dwell on the seashore, 
 
 and none between us and the sea. Men 
 are my merry companions, my fellow-pil 
 grims, who beguile the way, but leave me 
 at the first turn in the road, for none are 
 traveling one road so far as myself. . . . 
 Parents and relatives but entertain the 
 youth. They cannot stand between him 
 
 and his destiny. EARLY SPRING, p. 128. 
 
 " The king- I am startled that God can make 
 
 dom of God . , . , , 
 
 cometh not me so rich, even with my own 
 
 with obser- , _ , , .. 
 
 vation." cheap stores. It needs but a few 
 wisps of straw in the sun, some small word 
 dropped, or that has long lain silent in some 
 book. When heaven begins, and the dead 
 arise, no trumpet is blown. Perhaps the 
 
 SOUth wind will blow. EARLY SPRING, p. 129. 
 
 Let love rest As soon as I see people loving 
 
 on common - 
 
 aspirations, what they see merely, and not 
 their own high hopes that they form of oth 
 ers, I pity them and do not want their love.
 
 SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. 1 19 
 
 Did I ask thee to love me who hate myself ? 
 No ! Love that which I love, and I will 
 
 love thee that loves it. EARLY SPRING, p. 133- 
 
 The promise Life is grand, and so are its en- 
 
 in the face of r -n i T- ^ 
 
 nature. vironments of last and ruture. 
 Would the face of nature be so serene and 
 beautiful if man s destiny were not equally 
 
 SO ? EARLY SPRING, p. 133. 
 
 Singleness What am I gOOd for HOW, who 
 
 of purpose. am stm searc hi n g after high 
 things, but to hear and tell the news, to 
 bring wood and water, and count how 
 many eggs the hens lay ? In the mean 
 while I expect my life to begin. I will not 
 aspire longer. I will see what it is I would 
 be after. I will be unanimous. 
 
 EARLY SPRING, p. 134. 
 
 water in No sooner has the ice of Wal- 
 
 eariy spring. den me lted than the wind begins 
 to play in dark ripples over the face of the 
 virgin water. It is affecting to see nature 
 so tender, however old, and wearing none 
 of the wrinkles of age. Ice dissolved is 
 the next moment as perfect water as if it 
 had been melted a million years. To see
 
 120 SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. 
 
 that which was lately so hard and immov 
 able now so soft and impressible! What if 
 our moods could dissolve thus completely ? 
 It is like a flush of life on a cheek that was 
 dead. It seems as if it must rejoice in its 
 own newly-acquired fluidity, as it affects 
 
 the beholder with joy. EARLY SPRING, p. 135. 
 
 The privacy O ur religion is as unpublic and 
 of rehgion. i ncO mmunicable as our poetical 
 vein, and to be approached with as much 
 love and tenderness. EARLY SPRING, P . i 37 . 
 
 Nobook As I am going to the woods, I 
 
 can match . 11 i i 
 
 nature. think to take some small book in 
 my pocket, whose author has been there 
 already, whose pages will be as good as my 
 thoughts, and will eke them out, or show 
 me human life still gleaming in the horizon 
 when the woods have shut out the town. 
 But I can find none. None will sail as far 
 forward into the bay of nature as my 
 thought. They stay at home. I would go 
 home. When I get to the wood, their thin 
 leaves rustle in my fingers. They are bare 
 and obvious, and there is no halo or haze 
 about them. Nature lies fair and far be 
 hind them all. EARLY SPRING, p. 137.
 
 SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. 121 
 
 The divinity When God made man he re- 
 
 of the human . . 
 
 eye. served some parts and some rights 
 
 to himself. The eye has many qualities 
 which belong to God more than man. It 
 is his lightning which flashes therein. 
 When I look into my companion s eye, I 
 think it is God s private mine. It is a noble 
 feature ; it cannot be degraded. For God 
 can look on all things undefiled. 
 
 EARLY SPRING, p. 138. 
 
 NO truth The only way to speak the truth 
 
 without love. is to speak i ov i ng i yi Only the 
 
 lover s words are heard. The intellect 
 should never speak. It does not utter a 
 
 natural SOUnd. EARLY SPRING, p. 139. 
 
 Disinter- The great and solitary heart 
 
 estedlove. ^ IQVQ ^^ without the knQW _ 
 
 ledge of its object. It cannot have society 
 in its love. It will expend its love as the 
 cloud drops rain upon the fields over which 
 
 it liOcltS. EARLY SPRING, p. 139. 
 
 Aspirations I P^y that the life of this spring 
 m the spring. anc j summ er may ever lie fair in 
 
 my memory. May I dare as I have never 
 done. May I persevere as I have never
 
 122 SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. 
 
 done. May I purify myself anew as with 
 fire and water, soul and body. May my 
 melody not be wanting to the season. May 
 I gird myself to be a hunter of the beauti 
 ful, that naught escape me. May I attain 
 to a youth never attained. 
 
 EARLY SPRING, p. 140. 
 
 Human and Men make an arbitrary code, 
 
 divine law. andj b ecause j t j s not r j gnt) they 
 
 try to make it prevail by might. The 
 moral law does not want any champion. 
 Its assertors do not go to war. It was 
 never infringed with impunity. It is in 
 consistent to deny war and maintain law, 
 for if there were no need of war, there 
 
 WOUld be no need Of law. EARLY SPRING, p. 147. 
 
 The blue- How much more habitable a few 
 
 atlheendof birds make the fields! At the 
 winter end of the winter, when the fields 
 are bare, and there is nothing to relieve 
 the monotony of withered vegetation, our 
 life seems reduced to its lowest terms. But 
 let a bluebird come and warble over them, 
 and what a change ! The note of the first 
 bluebird in the air answers to the purling 
 rill of melted snow beneath. It is evi-
 
 SELECTIONS FROM THOREAU. 123 
 
 dently soft and soothing, and, as surely as 
 the thermometer, indicates a higher tem 
 perature. It is the accent of the south 
 wind, its vernacular. EARLY SPRING, p. 168. 
 
 Nature on Each new year is a surprise to 
 *haSfc?st us. We find that we had virtu 
 ally forgotten the note of each 
 bird, and when we hear it again it is re 
 membered like a dream, reminding us of a 
 previous state of existence. How happens 
 it that the associations it awakens are al 
 ways pleasing, never saddening, reminis 
 cences of our sanest hours. The voice of 
 nature is always encouraging. 
 
 EARLY SPRING, p. 170.
 
 A CONTRIBUTION 
 
 TOWARD A 
 
 BIBLIOGRAPHY OF THOREAU 
 
 "A truth-speaker he, capable of the most deep and strict conver 
 sation ; a physician to the wounds of any soul." EMERSON.
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 " IT is the bibliographer who of all men 
 has most occasion to realize the imperfec 
 tion of human endeavor. Completeness in 
 bibliography is an ignis fatuus that eludes 
 even the closest pursuit and the most pains 
 taking endeavor." If such an adept as Mr. 
 R. R. Bowker makes the above avowal (and 
 it may be found in his preface to the 
 "American Catalogue," 1 885), that fact must 
 plead for the "imperfection" of this bit of 
 prentice work, which has been done in 
 such moments as could be stolen from the 
 imperative duties of an arduous profession. 
 To be suddenly summoned from searching 
 a catalogue to soothe a colic may be " busi 
 ness ; " it is hardly bibliographing. 
 
 This "Contribution " is not the result of 
 an "endeavor " at "completeness." It is
 
 128 PREFACE. 
 
 simply a thank-offering to Thoreau s memo 
 ry, from one who has been " lifted up and 
 strengthened" by his example. It was 
 compiled in the hope that it might facili 
 tate the study of, and enlarge an acquain 
 tance with, the author of "the only book 
 yet written in America, to my thinking, 
 that bears an annual perusal." Standing 
 at Thoreau s graveside some twenty-eight 
 years ago, Emerson said, " The country 
 knows not yet, or in least part, how great 
 a son it has lost. ... His soul was made 
 for the noblest society ; he had in a short 
 life exhausted the capabilities of this world ; 
 wherever there is knowledge, wherever 
 there is virtue, wherever there is beauty, he 
 will find a home." There is too much of 
 truth in the fear that the man so certified 
 "great, intelligent, sensual, avaricious 
 America" knows not yet, or in least part. 
 There is peril for the soul in such ignorance. 
 To those unacquainted with Thoreau, 
 this "Contribution" will afford an aid for 
 which the compiler would long since have
 
 PREFACE. 129 
 
 been very grateful. Whatever of worth it 
 may have as a contribution is wholly due 
 to courtesies received from H. S. Salt, Lon 
 don ; Geo. Willis Cooke ; Wm. C. Lane, 
 Harvard College Library ; R. C. Davis, 
 Librarian of the University of Michigan ; 
 to whom be thanks. 
 
 ANN ARBOR, 2$th May, 1890.
 
 A CONTRIBUTION TOWARD A 
 BIBLIOGRAPHY 
 
 OF 
 
 HENRY DAVID THOREAU. 
 
 I. 
 
 PAPERS, POEMS, AND BOOKS BY THOREAU. 
 
 1840. Sympathy. The Dial, i. 71 (July). Reprinted 
 in the collection of poems at the close of 
 Letters to Various Persons. 
 
 Aulus Persius Flaccus. The Dial, i. 117 (July). 
 Reprinted in A Week on the Concord and 
 Merrimack Rivers, p. 326. 
 
 1841. Stanzas: "Nature doth have her dawn each 
 day." The Dial, i. 314 (January). Reprinted 
 in A Week on the Concord and Merrimack 
 Rivers, p. 301. 
 
 Sic Vita. The Dial, ii. 81 (July). Reprinted 
 in A Week on the Concord and Merrimack 
 Rivers, p. 405. 
 
 Friendship. The Dial, ii. 204 (October). Re 
 printed under the title, " Romans, Country 
 men, and Lovers," in the collection of poems 
 at the close of Letters to Various Persons j 
 also in A Week on the Concord and Merri- 
 tnack Rivers, p. 304.
 
 132 BIBLIOGRAPHY. 
 
 1842. Natural History of Massachusetts. The Dial, 
 iii. 19 (July). Reprinted in Excursions. 
 
 Prayers. The Dial, iii. 77 (July). Reprinted 
 in A Yankee in Canada, with Anti-Slavery 
 and Reform Papers. 
 
 The Black Knight. The Dial, iii. 180 (Octo 
 ber). 
 
 The Inward Morning. The Dial, iii. 198 (Oc 
 tober). Reprinted in A Week on the Concord 
 and Merrimack Rivers, p. 311. 
 
 Free Love. The Dial, iii. 199 (October). Re 
 printed in A Week on the Concord and Mer 
 rimack Rivers, p. 296. 
 
 The Poet s Delay. The Dial, iii. 200 (Octo 
 ber). Reprinted in A Week on the Concord 
 and Merrimack Rivers, p. 364. 
 
 Rumors from an ^Eolian Harp. The Dial. iii. 
 200 (October). Reprinted in A Week on the 
 Concord and Merrimack Rivers, p. 185. 
 
 The Moon. The Dial, iii. 222 (October). 
 
 To the Maiden in the East. The Dial, iii. 222 
 (October). Reprinted in A Week on the Con 
 cord and Merrimack Rivers, p. 54. 
 
 The Summer Rain. The Dial, iii. 224 (Octo 
 ber). Reprinted in A Week on the Concord 
 and Merrimack Rivers, p. 320. 
 
 1843. The Laws of Menu. Selected by H. D. T. 
 The Dial, iii. 331 (January). 
 
 The Prometheus Bound. Translated by H. D. 
 T. The Dial, iii. 363 (January). 
 
 Anacreon. With translations. The Dial, iii. 
 484 (April). Reprinted in A Week on the 
 Concord and Merrimack Rivers, p. 238.
 
 BIBLIOGRAPHY. 133 
 
 To a Stray Fowl. The Dial, iii. 505 (April). 
 
 Orphics: Smoke, Haze. The Dial, iii. 505 
 (April). Reprinted in the collection of poems 
 at the close of Letters to Various Persons; 
 also, the former in Walden, p. 271 ; the latter 
 in A Week on the Concord and Merrimack 
 Rivers, p. 229. 
 
 Dark Ages. The Dial, iii. 527 (April). Re 
 printed in A Week on the Concord and Mer 
 rimack Rivers, pp. 164-168. 
 
 A Winter Walk. The Dial, iv. 211 (October). 
 Reprinted in Excursions. 
 
 A Walk to Wachusett. The Boston Miscel 
 lany. Reprinted in Excursions. 
 
 The Landlord. The Democratic Review, xiii. 
 427 (October). Reprinted in Excursions. 
 
 Paradise (to be) Regained. The Democratic 
 Review, xiii. 451 (November). Reprinted in 
 A Yankee in Canada, with Anti-Slavery 
 and Reform Papers. 
 
 1844. Homer, Ossian, Chaucer; extracts from a 
 lecture on poetry, read before the Concord 
 Lyceum, November 29, 1843. The Dial, iv. 
 290 (January). 
 
 Pindar. Translations. The Dial, iv. 379 (Jan 
 uary)- 
 
 Herald of Freedom. The Dial, iv. 507 (April). 
 Reprinted in A Yankee in Canada, with 
 Anti-Slavery and Reform Papers. 
 
 Fragments of Pindar. The Dial, iv. 513 
 (April). 
 
 1845. Wendell Phillips before the Concord Lyceum. 
 The Liberator, March 28. Reprinted in A
 
 134 BIBLIOGRAPHY. 
 
 Yankee in Canada, with Anti-Slavery and 
 Reform Papers. 
 
 1847. Thomas Carlyle and his works. Graham s 
 Magazine, March, April. Reprinted in A 
 Yankee in Canada, with Anti-Slavery and 
 Reform Papers. 
 
 1848. Ktaadn and the Maine Woods. The Union 
 Magazine. Reprinted in The Maine Woods. 
 
 1849. A WEEK ON THE CONCORD AND MERRI- 
 MACK. RIVERS. Boston and Cambridge: 
 James Munroe & Co. Reissued in 1867 by 
 Ticknor & Fields. 
 
 Resistance to Civil Government. ^Esthetic 
 Papers, i. 189-211. Reprinted with the 
 title " Civil Disobedience " in A Yankee in 
 Canada, with Anti- Slavery and Reform 
 Papers. 
 
 1853. Excursion to Canada. Putnam 1 s Magazine, 
 i. 54, 179, 321 (January, February, March). 
 Chapters i., ii., iii., of A Yankee in Canada. 
 
 1854. WALDEN; OR, LIFE IN THE WOODS. Bos 
 ton: Ticknor & Fields. Reissued in 1889 
 in two volumes, by Houghton, Mifflin & Co., 
 in The Riverside Aldine Series. 
 
 Slavery in Massachusetts ; an address delivered 
 at the anti-slavery celebration at Framing- 
 ham, Mass., July 4. The Liberator, July 21. 
 Reprinted in A Yankee in Canada, with 
 Anti-Slavery and Reform Papers. 
 
 1855. Cape Cod. Putnam s Magazine, v. 632, 
 vi. 59, 157 (June, July, August). Chapters i.- 
 iv. of Cape Cod. 
 
 1858. Chesuncook. The Atlantic Monthly, ii. I,
 
 BIBLIOGRAPHY. 1 3 5 
 
 224, 305 (June, July, August). Reprinted in 
 The Maine Woods. 
 
 1859. A Plea for Captain John Brown. Read to 
 the citizens of Concord, Mass., Sunday even 
 ing, October 30. A Yankee in Canada, with 
 A nil-Slavery and Reform Papers. 
 
 1860. Reminiscences of John Brown. Read at 
 North Elba, N. Y., July 4. The Liberator, 
 July 27. Reprinted with the title " The Last 
 Days of John Brown " in A Yankee in Can 
 ada, with Anti-Slavery and Reform Papers. 
 
 The Succession of Forest Trees ; an address 
 read to the Middlesex Agricultural Society 
 in Concord, September. The New York 
 Weekly Tribune, October 6 ; also in Middle 
 sex Agricultural Transactions. Reprinted in 
 Excursions. 
 
 Remarks at Concord on the day of the execu 
 tion of John Brown. Echoes from Harper s 
 Ferry. Boston : Thayer & Eldridge, p. 439, 
 
 1862. Walking. The Atlantic Monthly, ix. 657 
 (June). Reprinted in Excursions. 
 
 Autumnal Tints. The Atlantic Monthly, x. 
 
 385 (October). Reprinted in Excursions. 
 Wild Apples. The Atlantic Monthly, x. 313 
 
 (November). Reprinted in Excursions. 
 
 1863. Life without Principle. The Atlantic Month 
 ly, xii. 484 (October). Reprinted in A Yan 
 kee in Canada, with Anti-Slavery and Re 
 form Papers. 
 
 Night and Moonlight. The Atlantic Monthly, 
 xii. 579 (November). Reprinted in Excur-
 
 1 36 BIBLIOGRAPHY, 
 
 EXCURSIONS. (With biographical sketch by R. 
 W. Emerson.) Boston : Ticknor & Fields. 
 
 1864. THE MAINE WOODS. (Edited by W. E. 
 Channing.) Boston : Ticknor & Fields. 
 N. B. This volume contains The Allegash 
 and East Branch, not before printed. 
 
 The Wellfleet Oysterman. The Atlantic 
 Monthly, xiv. 470 (October). Reprinted in 
 Cape Cod. 
 
 The Highland Light. The Atlantic Monthly, 
 xiv. 649 (December). Reprinted in Cape 
 Cod. 
 
 CAPE COD. (Edited by W. E. Channing.) Bos 
 ton: Ticknor & Fields. [Publisher s date, 
 1865.] 
 
 1865. LETTERS TO VARIOUS PERSONS. (Edited 
 by R. W. Emerson.) Boston : Ticknor & 
 Fields. 
 
 1866. A YANKEE IN CANADA, WITH ANTI-SLA 
 VERY AND REFORM PAPERS. (Edited by 
 W. E. Channing.) Boston : Ticknor & 
 Fields. 
 
 1878. April Days. The Atlantic Monthly, xli. 445 
 
 (April). 
 May Days. The Atlantic Monthly, xli. 567 
 
 (May). 
 Days in June. The Atlantic Monthly, xli. 71 1 
 
 (June). Reprinted in Summer. 
 1881. EARLY SPRING IN MASSACHUSETTS : FROM 
 
 THE JOURNAL OF HENRY D. THOREAU. 
 
 (Edited by H. G. O. Blake.) Boston: 
 
 Houghton, Mifflin & Co. 
 1884. SUMMER: FROM THE JOURNAL OF HENRY
 
 BIBLIOGRAPHY. 137 
 
 D. THOREAU. (Edited by H. G. O. Blake.) 
 Boston: Houghton, Mifflin & Co. 
 
 1885. Winter Days. The Atlantic Monthly, Iv. 79 
 (January). Reprinted in Winter, pp. 81-107. 
 
 1887. WINTER: FROM THE JOURNAL OF HENRY 
 D. THOREAU. (Edited by H. G. O. Blake.) 
 Boston: Houghton, Mifflin & Co. [Publish 
 er s date, 1888.] 
 
 II. 
 
 BOOKS WHOLLY OR IN PART DEVOTED TO 
 THOREAU. 
 
 1855. Duyckinck, E. A. and G. L. Henry D. 
 Thoreart. CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LIT 
 ERATURE, ii. 653-656. New York: Charles 
 Scribner. 
 
 1857. Curtis, G.W. Thoreau. HOMES OF AMERI 
 CAN AUTHORS, pp. 247-248; 250-251. New 
 York : D. Appleton and Company. 
 
 1863. Emerson, R. W. Biographical Sketch. In 
 Thoreau s EXCURSIONS. Issued also in 
 COMPLETE WORKS, Riverside edition, x., pp. 
 421-452. Boston: Houghton, Mifflin & Co. 
 
 1866. Alger, W. R. Thoreau. THE SOLITUDES 
 OF NATURE AND OF MAN, pp. 329-338. Bos 
 ton : Roberts Brothers. 
 
 1868. Hawthorne, N. PASSAGES FROM THE 
 AMERICAN NOTE-BOOKS, ii., pp. 96-99. 
 Boston : Ticknor & Fields. 
 
 1871. Lowell, J. R. Thoreau. MY STUDY WIN 
 DOWS, pp. 193-209. Boston: James R. Os- 
 good & Co.
 
 138 BIBLIOGRAPHY. 
 
 1873. Charming, W. E. THOREAU : THE POET- 
 NATURALIST. Boston: Roberts Brothers. 
 Alcott, A. B. Thoreau, Walden Pond. CON 
 CORD DAYS, pp. 11-20, 259-264. Boston: 
 Roberts Brothers. 
 
 1877. Page, H. A. (Dr. A. H. Japp). THOREAU : 
 His LIFE AND AIMS. Boston: James R. 
 Osgood & Co. 
 
 1878. Sanborn, F. B. MEMOIRS OF JOHN 
 BROWN, pp. 45, 49-51. Concord, Mass. 
 
 1879. Higginson, T. W. Thoreau. SHORT STUD 
 IES OF AMERICAN AUTHORS, pp. 23-31. 
 Boston: Lee & Shepard. 
 
 1880. James, Jr., H. HAWTHORNE. Ame-ican 
 Men of Letters, pp. 93-94. New York: 
 Harper and Brothers. 
 
 1880. Scudder, Horace E. Henry David Thoreau. 
 AMERICAN PROSE, pp. 296-301. Boston: 
 Houghton, Mifflin and Co. 
 
 1881. Flagg, Wilson. Thoreau. HALCYON DAYS, 
 pp. 164-168. Boston: Estes & Lauriat. 
 
 Cooke, G. W. RALPH WALDO EMERSON: 
 His LIFE, WRITINGS, AND PHILOSOPHY. 
 (Vide Index.) Boston: James R. Osgood & 
 Co. 
 
 1882. Conway, M. D. Thoreau. EMERSON AT 
 HOME AND ABROAD, pp. 279-289. Boston : 
 James R. Osgood & Co. 
 
 Alcott, A. B. SONNETS AND CANZONETS. 
 Boston : Roberts Brothers. 
 
 Nichol, Prof. John. TJioreau. AMERICAN- 
 LITERATURE: AN HISTORICAL SKETCH, 
 pp. 313-321. Edinburgh: Adam and Charles 
 Black.
 
 BIBLIOGRAPHY. 1 39 
 
 Welsh, A. H. Thoreau. DEVELOPMENT OF 
 ENGLISH LITERATURE AND LANGUAGE, ii., 
 pp. 409-414. Chicago: S. C. Griggs & Co. 
 
 Burroughs, John. T/wreaiis Wildness. ES 
 SAYS FROM THE Critic, pp. 9-18. Boston: 
 James R. Osgood & Co. 
 
 Sanborn, F. B. Thoreau s Unpublished Po 
 etry. ESSAYS FROM THE Critic, pp. 71-78. 
 Boston : James R. Osgood & Co. 
 
 Sanborn, F. B. Reading from Thoreau s 
 Manuscripts. CONCORD LECTURES ON PHI 
 LOSOPHY, pp. 124-126. Cambridge: Moses 
 King. 
 
 1883. Sanborn, F. B. HENRY D. THOREAU. 
 American Men of Letters. Boston: Hough- 
 ton, Mifflin & Co. 
 
 1884. Hawthorne, Julian. NATHANIEL HAW 
 THORNE AND His WIFE: A BIOGRAPHY. 
 (Vide Index.) Cambridge: James R. Os 
 good & Co. 
 
 1885. Sanborn, F. B. LIFE AND LETTERS OF 
 JOHN BROWN. (Vide Index.) Boston: Rob 
 erts Brothers. 
 
 Holmes, O. W. RALPH WALDO EMERSON. 
 (Vide Index.) American Men of Letters. 
 Boston : Houghton, Mifflin & Co. 
 
 1886. Stevenson, R. L. Henry David Thoreau: 
 His Character and Opinions. FAMILIAR 
 STUDIES OF MEN AND BOOKS, pp. 129-171. 
 London: Chatto & Windus. 
 
 Dircks, W. H. Thoreau. An Introductory 
 Note in WALDEN. Camelot Classics. Lon 
 don : Walter Scott.
 
 140 BIBLIOGRAPHY. 
 
 Garnett, Richard. An Introductory Note in 
 MY STUDY WINDOWS. Camelot Classics. 
 London : Walter Scott. 
 
 1887. Cabot, James Elliot. A MEMOIR OF RALPH 
 WALDO EMERSON, i., p. 282. Boston: Hough- 
 ton, Mifflin & Co. 
 
 Haskins, David Green. RALPH WALDO 
 EMERSON: His MATERNAL ANCESTORS, 
 pp. 119-122. Boston: Cupples, Upham & 
 Co. 
 
 Whipple, E. P. AMERICAN LITERATURE AND 
 OTHER PAPERS, pp. 111-112. Boston : Tick- 
 nor & Co. 
 
 Beers, Prof. Henry A. Henry David Thoreau. 
 AN OUTLINE SKETCH OF AMERICAN LIT 
 ERATURE, pp. 143-148. New York : Chautau- 
 qua Press. 
 
 Carpenter, Edward. ENGLAND S IDEAL, pp. 
 13-14. London : Swan, Sonnenschein, Low- 
 rey & Co. 
 
 1888. Garnett, Richard. LIFE OF RALPH WALDO 
 EMERSON, pp. 157-159. Great Writers Se 
 ries. London : Walter Scott. 
 
 Besant, Walter. THE EULOGY OF RICHARD 
 JEFFERIES, pp. 221-225. London : Long 
 mans, Green & Co. 
 
 Salt, H. S. LITERARY SKETCHES. London: 
 Swan, Sonnenschein, Lowrey & Co. 
 
 1889. Emerson, E. W. EMERSON IN CONCORD. 
 (Vide Index.) Boston: Houghton, Mifflin 
 & Co. 
 
 Burroughs, John. INDOOR STUDIES, pp. 1-42. 
 Boston: Houghton, Mifflin & Co.
 
 BIBLIOGRAPHY. 1 4 1 
 
 Dircks, W. H. Thoreau. A Preparatory 
 Note in A WEEK ON THE CONCORD AND 
 MERRIMAC \_sic~\ RIVERS, pp. v-xviii. Game- 
 lot Classics. London : Walter Scott. 
 
 Frothingham, O. B. Thoreau, Henry David. 
 CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY, 
 vi., pp. loo-ioi. New York: D. Appleton 
 and Company. 
 
 Hubert, Jr., Philip G. Henry David Thoreau. 
 LIBERTY AND A LIVING, pp. 171-190. New 
 York and London: G. P. Putnam s Sons. 
 1890. Jones, Dr. S. A. THOREAU: A GLIMPSE. 
 WITH A BIBLIOGRAPHY. Ann Arbor: No 
 publisher. 
 
 Ellis, Havelock. THE NEW SPIRIT, pp. 90- 
 99. London: George Bell & Sons. 
 
 Charles J. Woodbury. Thoreau. TALKS 
 WITH RALPH WALDO EMERSON, pp. 69-94. 
 London : Kegan Paul, Trench, Triibner & 
 Co., Ltd. 
 
 The same. New York : Baker & Taylor Co. 
 
 Salt, H. S. THE LIFE OF HENRY DAVID 
 THOREAU. London: Richard Bentley & 
 Son. 
 
 III. 
 
 MAGAZINE ARTICLES. 
 
 1849. George Ripley. A Week on the Concord 
 and Merrimack Rivers. The New York 
 Tribune. 
 
 J. R. Lowell. A Week on the Concord and 
 Merrimack Rivers. Massachusetts Quar 
 terly Review, iii., ix. (December), 40-51.
 
 142 BIBLIOGRAPHY. 
 
 A Week on the Concord and Merrimack Riv 
 ers. Athenceum (October 27). 
 
 1854. A. P. Peabody. Walden : or Life in the 
 Woods. North American Review, bcxix. 
 
 536. 
 
 C. F. Briggs. A Yankee Diogenes. Put- 
 Hani s Magazine, iv. 443. 
 
 1855. Edwin Morton. Thoreau and his Books. 
 The Harvard Magazine, i. No. ii. (January), 
 87-99. \Vide Sanborn s Thoreau. "Ameri 
 can Men of Letters," pp. 195-199.] 
 
 A Rural Humbug. Knickerbocker Magazine, 
 
 xlv. 235. 
 
 1857. An American Diogenes. Chambers Edin 
 burgh Journal, xxviii. 330. 
 1862. G. W. Curtis. Reminiscences of Thoreau. 
 
 Harper s Magazine, xxv. 270. 
 R. W. Emerson. Thoreau. Atlantic Month 
 ly, x. 239. 
 
 1864. T.W. Higginson. The Maine \Voods. At 
 lantic Monthly, xiv. 386. 
 
 The Transcendentalists of Concord. Eraser s 
 Magazine, Ixx. 245. [Same article in Eclec 
 tic Magazine, Ixiii. 231 ; LittelFs Living 
 Age, Ixxxiii. 99, 1 78.] 
 
 An American Rousseau. Saturday Review 
 (December 3). 
 
 1865. T. W. Higginson. Cape Cod. Atlantic 
 Monthly, xv. 381. 
 
 T. W. Higginson. Letters to Various Persons. 
 
 Atlantic Monthly, xvi. 504. 
 J. A. Weiss. Thoreau. Christian Examiner, 
 
 Ixxix. 96.
 
 BIBLIOGRAPHY. 143 
 
 W. R. Alger. Thoreau. Monthly Religious 
 Magazine, xxxv. 382. 
 
 M. D. Conway. Thoreau. Eraser s Maga 
 zine, Ixxiii. 447. [Same article in Eclectic 
 Magazine, Ixvii. 180 (1886); Every Satur 
 day, i. 622 (1886).] 
 
 J. R.Lowell. "Letters to Various Persons." 
 By Henry D. Thoreau. North American 
 Review, ci. 597. 
 
 1869. G. W. Curtis. Further Reminiscences of 
 Thoreau. Harper s Magazine, xxxviii. 415. 
 
 1870. J. R. Lowell. Thoreau. Every Saturday, 
 x. 1 66. 
 
 1873. Thoreau. British Quarterly, lix. 181. [Same 
 article in Littell s Living Age, cxx. 643 ; 
 Eclectic Magazine, Ixxxii. 305.] 
 
 1874. Henry Thoreau, the Poet-Naturalist. Brit 
 ish Quarterly (January). 
 
 Ellery Channing s Thoreau. The Nation 
 (January 8). 
 
 1875. Miss H. R. Hudson. Concord Books. 
 Harper s Magazine, li. 18. 
 
 1877. M.Collins. Thoreau. Dublin University 
 Magazine, xc. 610. 
 
 T. Hughes. Study of Thoreau. Eclectic Mag 
 azine, xc. 1 14. 
 
 Theodore Watts. Article in Athetuzum (No 
 vember 17). 
 
 1878. J. V. O Connor. Henry D. Thoreau and 
 New England Transcendentalism. Catholic 
 World, xxvii. 289. 
 
 1879. The Pity and Humor of Thoreau. LitteWs 
 Living Age, cxlvi. 190.
 
 144 BIBLIOGRAPHY. 
 
 R. L. Stevenson. Henry David Thoreau : His 
 Character and Opinions. Cornhill Maga 
 zine, xli. 665. [Same article in L itteir s Liv 
 ing Age, cxlvi. 179; Eclectic Magazine, xcv. 
 257 (1880).] 
 
 1880. W. S. Kennedy. A New Estimate of 
 Henry D. Thoreau. Penn Monthly, xi. 794. 
 
 Philosophy at Concord. The Nation (Septem 
 ber 2). 
 
 W. S. Kennedy. A New Estimate of Tho 
 reau. Penn Monthly, ii. 794. 
 
 1881. Thoreau s Portrait. By himself. The Liter 
 ary World (Boston), xii. 1 16-1 17 (March 26). 
 
 F. B. Sanborn. Henry David Thoreau. The 
 Harvard Register, iii. 214-217 (April). Por 
 trait. 
 
 1882. John Burroughs. Henry D. Thoreau. The 
 Century, ii. (New Series), 368. 
 
 John Burroughs. Thoreau s Wildness. Critic, 
 i. 74. 
 
 F. B. Sanborn. Thoreau s Unpublished Po 
 etry. Critic, i. 75. 
 
 Portraits of Thoreau with a Beard. Critic, i. 
 
 95- 
 Henry D. Thoreau : Sanborn s Life of. The 
 
 Nation, xxxv. 34. 
 
 Henry D. Thoreau: Sanborn s Life of. Lit 
 erary World (Boston), xiii. 227. 
 
 Henry D. Thoreau : Sanborn s Life of. Athe- 
 naum, ii. (of the year), 558. 
 
 J. A. Janvier. Henry D. Thoreau : Sanborn s 
 Life of. American, iv. 218. 
 
 Henry D. Thoreau : Sanborn s Life of. Aca 
 demy, ii. 271.
 
 BIBLIOGRAPHY. 145 
 
 Theodore Watts. Article in Athenceum (Oc 
 tober 28). 
 
 1883. H. N. Powers. H. D. Thoreau. Dial (Chi 
 cago), iii. 70. 
 
 Henry D. Thoreau. Spectator, Ivi. 239. 
 
 1884. Walter Lewin. "Summer: From the Jour 
 nal of Henry D. Thoreau." The Nation, 
 xxvi. 193. 
 
 " Summer : From the Journal of Henry D. Tho 
 reau." Literary World (Boston), xv. 223. 
 
 1885. Henry D. Thoreau. Spectator, Iviii. 122. 
 
 J. Benton. Thoreau s Poetry. Lippincott s 
 
 Magazine, xxxvii. 491. 
 G. Willis Cooke. The Dial. Journal of 
 
 Speculative Philosophy (July). 
 
 1886. H. S. Salt. Henry D. Thoreau. Temple 
 Bar, Ixxviii. 369. Reprinted, 1888, in Liter 
 ary Sketches, by H. S. Salt. London : Swan, 
 Sonnenschein, Lowrey & Co. 
 
 1887. H. S. Salt. Henry D. Thoreau. Eclectic 
 Magazine, cviii. 89. 
 
 H. S. Salt. Henry D. Thoreau. The Critic, 
 ii. 276, 289. From Temple Bar, 
 
 A. H. Japp. Henry David Thoreau. The 
 Welcome (November). 
 
 1888. Henry D. Thoreau. Good Words, xxix. 445. 
 Grant Allen. A Sunday at Concord. Fort 
 nightly Review (May). 
 
 1 889. John Burroughs. Henry D. Thoreau. Chau- 
 tauquan, ix. 530. 
 
 " Week on the Concord and Merrimack Rivers." 
 Saturday Review, Ixviii. 195. 
 
 1890. S.A.Jones. Thoreau: A Glimpse. The 
 Unitarian, v. 2, 3, 4 (February, March, April).
 
 146 BIBLIOGRAPHY. 
 
 H. S. Salt. Thoreau s Poetry. The Art Re 
 view (London), i. 5 (May). 
 
 C. J. Woodbury. Emerson s Talks with a 
 College Boy. The Century (February).
 
 INDEX. 
 
 ACTIVITY, be warmed by, 80. 
 
 Actual, the ideal needs but slight 
 support in the, 65. 
 
 Adventure, an, in the mind rather 
 than in the thing done, 80. 
 
 Advice, a friend s, HI. 
 
 Adviser, the true, 75. 
 
 Affairs, slavery to, 14; life not to 
 be lost in the complexity of, 16 ; 
 life wasted in, 17 ; the mind not 
 to be desecrated by gossip and, 
 101. 
 
 Affection, the reserve of, 37 ; and 
 sloth, do. 
 
 Aim, the higher the, the more ear 
 nest must be the work, 71 ; the 
 constant elevation of our, 96. 
 
 Animal food offends the imagina 
 tion, 6. 
 
 Appeal, to the highest, direct, 45 ; 
 to the highest within you, 68. 
 
 Appetite, the quality of the, 
 makes the sensualist, 8. 
 
 Appreciation, the best, is discrim 
 inating, S3- 
 
 Aspirations, a friend cherishes 
 one s highest, 38 ; we can re 
 spect our, 44 ; the helpful friend 
 encourages our, 65 ; let love 
 rest on common, 118; in the 
 spring, 121. 
 
 Authorship of poetry, the, 104. 
 
 Awake, morning is whenever we 
 are truly, 15 ; no one is thor 
 oughly, 16. 
 
 Battle in behalf of sane thinking, 
 
 the, 81. 
 Beasts, delicacy of the distinction 
 
 between men and, 9. 
 Beauty, give to the day, from the 
 
 beauty within, 16 ; unconscious 
 
 ness of, 70 ; the, or misery, of 
 life in our thoughts, 83. 
 
 Bluebird, the warble of the, 115, 
 122. 
 
 Body, care for the, compared with 
 care for the soul, 64 ; a warm, 
 and a cold spirit, 69 ; eats up 
 the soul s substance, 103. 
 
 Book, always room for a true, 107 ; 
 cannot match nature, 120. 
 
 Books, how to read the heroic, 
 20 ; how true ones should be 
 read, 21; wildness of the best, 
 91 ; read the best first, 105. 
 
 Border life between nature and 
 society, a, 92. 
 
 Bow, a, which no humbler archer 
 can bend, 72. 
 
 Bread, the true, 45 ; the taste of 
 that which we earn, 46 ; to truly 
 earn our, we must satisfy God 
 for it, 64 ; better starve than 
 lose innocence in getting, 98. 
 
 Burdens, all, become light to the 
 courageous, 74. 
 
 Cares, worldly, forgotten in a true 
 walk, 88. 
 
 Character, work essential to, 29; 
 the victory of, 29 ; manners 
 apart from, 103. 
 
 Charity which hides a multitude 
 of sins, overflowing love the, 
 12. 
 
 Classics, what are the, 21. 
 
 Cold and hunger, 07. 
 
 Companionship, the most satis 
 factory, 4. 
 
 Complaint, the shallowness of, 
 86. 
 
 Contentment with the life as 
 signed us, 116.
 
 148 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Convictions, our deepest, un 
 changeable, 79. 
 
 Courage, 74, 85. 
 
 Creation a poem to open ears, 
 the, 14. 
 
 Crop, the best, which a farm af 
 fords, 13. 
 
 Culture, humility enriches the 
 soul more than, 27. 
 
 Darkness, pondering over the 
 deeds of, 87. 
 
 Dawn, expectation of the, 16; 
 more day to, 29; the inward, 
 40; the true, 69. 
 
 Deed, each, determined by the 
 whole life, no. 
 
 Demand we make upon each 
 other, the low, 99. 
 
 Differences, friends must be si 
 lent about constitutional, 39 ; 
 the real, between friends can 
 not be explained away, 39. 
 
 Dilettanteism, 71. 
 
 Dishonesty worse than depen 
 dence, 26. 
 
 Dissipation, one s proper work 
 and, 86. 
 
 Distinction between men and 
 beasts, the delicacy of the, 9. 
 
 " Do what you love," 44. 
 
 Dreadful thing, the, not outside 
 of us, 75. 
 
 Dream, realize your, 24 ; our 
 faintest, points to the solidest 
 reality, 43. 
 
 Dreams, the realization of, 43 ; 
 the solidest facts that we know, 
 43- . 
 
 Dreariness, outward, 90. 
 
 Earnest, the, not hindered by tri 
 fles, 54. 
 
 Earning a living, the delight of 
 really, 46 ; earning money mere 
 ly, the evil of, 95. 
 
 Earth and heaven, the laws of, 
 harmonize, 48. 
 
 Economy, the only cure for the 
 nation, as for the household, 
 >7- 
 
 El Dorado, a man s, is where he 
 lives, 81. 
 
 Elevation of our aim, the con 
 stant, 96. 
 
 Elysium or Tophet, a man s, in 
 himself, 84. 
 
 Employment, exalted, 51. 
 
 Enjoyment, the true, 89. 
 Enjoyments, poverty need not 
 
 take from us the purest, 26. 
 Estrangement, 33. 
 Exercise, true walking is not for, 
 
 88. 
 Existence, gratitude for the sense 
 
 of, 78. 
 
 Expectations, divine, 51. 
 Experience, a glorious, cannot be 
 
 left behind, 54. 
 Expression, extravagance of, 24; 
 
 the rarity of perfect, 105. 
 Eye, the human, 56. 
 
 Failure, real success or, is in our 
 thoughts, 82. 
 
 Faith is earned by faithfulness, 
 47- 
 
 Faithfulness rather than know 
 ledge saves the soul, 63. 
 
 False position, why we are com 
 monly in a, 25. 
 
 Farm, the best crop which one 
 affords, 13. 
 
 Fastidious, one should be ex 
 tremely, 98. 
 
 Faults, the toleration of, an ob 
 stacle to friendship, 34 ; the, of 
 our friends must be lost in 
 love, 39 ; the true lover would 
 not hide his, 59. 
 
 Fidelity in work, 28. 
 
 Flower, a, the symbol of pure 
 love, 62. 
 
 Flowers, a lesson from the, in. 
 
 Freedom, political, but a means, 
 103. 
 
 Friend, the actual, but a sugges 
 tion of the ideal, 30; nourishes 
 the soul, 30; the true educator, 
 31 ; the only radical reformer, 
 31 ; associated with our choi 
 cest thought, 34 ; no slight ob 
 stacle can keep one from a, 35 ; 
 cherishes one s highest aspira 
 tions, 38 ; the faults of, must 
 be lost in love, 39; leaves the 
 sweetest consolation at his 
 death, 41 ; enhances every 
 thing, 60; the helpful, encour 
 ages our aspirations, 65 ; does 
 not limit our vision, 73 ; we 
 must love our, as we love God, 
 113; the delight of intercourse 
 with a, 116. 
 
 Friends, are not selected, 33 ; not 
 anxious to please each other,
 
 INDEX. 
 
 149 
 
 33 ; help each other s loftiest 
 dreams, 33 ; good will is neces 
 sary, not conscious, between, 
 34 ; do not ask to be appreci 
 ated, 37; silence is understood 
 between, 37; must be silent 
 about constitutional differ 
 ences, 39 ; the real differences 
 between, cannot be explained 
 away, 39; civility between, 41 ; 
 he who obeys his genius can 
 not lose his, 52 ; deal in pure 
 truth with each other, 61 ; 
 must meet erectly, 68 ; found 
 in solitude, 81. 
 
 Friendship, a thing outside of hu 
 man institutions, 30 ; the dream 
 of all, 30; no respecter of sex, 
 34 ; the toleration of faults an 
 obstacle to, 34; the purest, the 
 most unconscious, 35 ; the lan 
 guage of, 35 ; requires wisdom 
 as well as tenderness, 35 ; is not 
 conscious kindliness, 35; is in 
 the interest of humanity, 36 ; are 
 any noble enough for a lasting? 
 36 ; only between what is high 
 est in each, 38 ; and the love of 
 nature harmonize, 40 ; in na 
 ture, 53. 
 
 Genius, the slightest intimations 
 of one s, to be regarded, 7 ; the 
 organs of one s, reinvigorated 
 by healthful sleep, 15 ; the mis 
 ery of disobedience to our, 47 ; 
 he who obeys his, cannot lose 
 his friends, 52. 
 
 Getting a living, living and, should 
 be alike beautiful, 97; the or 
 dinary modes of, hostile to true 
 life, 97. 
 
 God most truly found when not 
 consciously sought, 49. 
 
 Gold, or wisdom, 97 ; where alone 
 the true, is to be found, 67. 
 
 Good will is necessary, not con 
 scious, between friends, 34. 
 
 Goodness, unconscious, 87. 
 
 Gossip and affairs, the mind not 
 to be desecrated by, 101. 
 
 Grade the ground before you 
 build, 84. 
 
 Gratitude for the sense of exis 
 tence, 78. 
 
 Hearing, there must be good, to 
 make a good reader, 112. 
 
 Heart, the, forever inexperienced, 
 
 29. 
 Heaven, the purest love a glimpse 
 
 of, 32 ; the laws of earth and, 
 
 harmonize, 48. 
 
 Hebe preferred to Hygeia, 6. 
 Hibernation of the poet, the, 105. 
 Highest, aim ever at the, 25 ; 
 
 wealth does not help us in the 
 
 pursuit of the, 27 ; within you, 
 
 appeal to the, 68. 
 History not to be read critically, 
 
 108. 
 Hope, for ourselves, 54; the great, 
 
 that gives value to life, 93. 
 Hospitality, in manners, not in 
 
 "entertainment," 28; the cost 
 
 of, to our best thoughts, 82. 
 Hours, above time, 104; of reso 
 lution, 106. 
 Human race, sympathy of nature 
 
 with the, 5. 
 Humanity before Nature, 74; no 
 
 wisdom can take the place of, 
 
 no. 
 Humility enriches the soul more 
 
 than culture, 27. 
 Hunger, and thirst of body and 
 
 soul, 64; and cold, 97. 
 Hyena, a, more easily tamed than 
 
 a friend, 40. 
 
 Ideal, our, shames our best ef 
 forts, 52 ; the, needs but slight 
 support in the actual, 65 ; how 
 the ideal transfigures a person, 
 66. 
 
 Ideas, success comes from devo 
 tion to, 85. 
 
 Ignorance, knowledge sometimes 
 worse than, 91 ; an advantage 
 of, 1 12. 
 
 Imagination, animal food offends 
 the, 6 ; must not be offended in 
 love, 58. 
 
 Immortality, mortality and, 20. 
 
 Impulses, respect vour, 114. 
 
 Industry, the comfort of, 69. 
 
 Influence, unconscious, 53. 
 
 Innocence, a spontaneous, above 
 virtue, no. 
 
 Inspiration, through the palate, 
 8 ; science should be allied to, 
 102. 
 
 Institutions, truth and, 104. 
 
 Intellect, use of the, 19. 
 
 Intercourse, too much shallow, 4 ; 
 shallow, 100.
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Invitation, the, of morning, 14; 
 genuine, 35. 
 
 Inward life, we should be awak 
 ened each morning by new, 15. 
 
 Justice, society content with a 
 too narrow, 32. 
 
 Kingdom of God, the, cometh not 
 with observation, 118. 
 
 Know thyself, 23. 
 
 Knowledge, faithfulness saves the 
 soul rather than, 63 ; some 
 times worse than ignorance, 
 91 ; aim above, 92 ; activity, 
 free and loving, the highest, 
 92. 
 
 Labor, how physical, may help 
 the writer, 106. 
 
 Landscape, nature prevails over 
 man in a large, $9. 
 
 Language of religion, religion 
 without the, 99. 
 
 Law, if ye be led by the spirit, ye 
 are not under the, 45 ; human 
 and divine, 122. 
 
 Laws, the, of earth and heaven 
 harmonize, 48. 
 
 Leisure, the glory of, 94; divine, 
 109. 
 
 Life, the moral quality of nature 
 and, 8 ; strike at the root of so 
 cial ills by purifying your own, 
 ii ; make the most of what is 
 good in, 14 ; a new, each day, 
 14; we should be awakened 
 each morning by new inward, 
 15; real, 16; not to be lost in 
 the complexity of affair:;, 16 ; 
 wasted in affairs, 17 ; make the 
 best of your own, 26; no real, 
 without love, 40 ; simplify the 
 problem of, 42 ; can express 
 whatever words can, 44 ; cling 
 to the thread of, 47 ; a balanced, 
 48 ; too high a demand cannot 
 be made upon, 50 ; danger of 
 undervaluing, 50 ; wealth com 
 plicates the problem of, 63 ; 
 simplicity of, not an end, but a 
 means, 76 ; the beauty or mi 
 sery of, in our thoughts, 83 ; 
 consists with wildness, 90; the 
 great hope that gives value to, 
 93 ; out-door, 94 ; sacrificed to 
 the newspaper, 100 ; each deed 
 determined by the whole, no; 
 
 essential, not to be probed, 114; 
 contentment with that assigned 
 us, 116. 
 
 Light, turn towards the, 117. 
 
 Live deliberately, 19. 
 
 Lives, we must account for our, 
 76 ; the doubleness of our, 78. 
 
 Living, plain, 17; the delight of 
 really earning a, 46 ; and get 
 ting a living should be alike 
 beautiful, 97. 
 
 Loneliness, the, of false society, 
 
 7 2 - 
 
 Love, overflowing, the charity 
 which hides a multitude of sins, 
 12; hearty truth is one with, 
 32 ; the purest, a glimpse of 
 heaven, 32 ; a hero s, delicate 
 as a maiden s, 34; no real life 
 without, 40 ; is implacable, 42 ; 
 wisdom and, essential to each 
 other, 55 ; should be ascend 
 ing, 57 ; shun a descending, 57 ; 
 true, most clear-sighted, 57; the 
 imagination must not be of 
 fended in, 58 ; demands the ut 
 most directness, 59 ; no lower 
 engagement can stand in the 
 way of, 59 ; no treasure to be 
 compared with, 60 ; its object 
 expands, 60 ; genuine, elevates 
 and strengthens, 61 ; must be 
 vigilant to retain its purity, 62 ; 
 a flower the symbol of pure, 
 62 ; the joy of, and of intel 
 lectual perception, 62; pure, 
 the radical reformer, 63 ; not 
 to be doubted, 87 ; let it rest 
 on common aspiration, 118; 
 no truth without, 121 ; disinter 
 ested, 121. 
 
 Lover, the most ardent, a little 
 reserved, 56 ; the, hears things, 
 not words, 58; the true, would 
 not hide his faults, 59. 
 
 Lovers must understand each 
 other without words, 58. 
 
 Man, the earnest, irresistible, 47 , 
 as a, thinketh, so is he, 52; 
 never discovers anything but 
 himself, 85 ; the truly efficient, 
 
 95- 
 Mankind, the art of, is to polish 
 
 the world, 71. 
 Manners, hospitality in, not in 
 
 " entertainment," 28 ; apart 
 
 from character, 103.
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Marriage, both common and di 
 vine sense should be consulted 
 in, 57. 
 
 Marriages, the rarity of real, 56. 
 
 Melancholy, yield not to, in the 
 upward path, 51. 
 
 Men, and beasts, delicacy of the 
 distinction between, 9 ; ask too 
 seldom to be nobly dealt with, 
 31 ; may punish us for satisfy 
 ing God, 64 ; the limited views 
 of, 98. 
 
 Mind, an adventure in the, rather 
 than in the thing done, 80 ; not 
 to be desecrated by gossip and 
 affairs, 101 ; let your, be open 
 to the best, 102. 
 
 Money, not necessary for the soul, 
 27 ; the evil of earning, merely, 
 95- 
 
 Moods, work in spite of, 72. 
 
 Moral quality of nature and life, 
 the, 8. 
 
 Morning, the invitation of, 14 ; is 
 whenever we are truly awake, 
 5- 
 
 Mortality and immortality, 20. 
 
 Mountains, the, within us, 77. 
 
 Muse, the, should lead, the un 
 derstanding follow, 49 ; too 
 plaintive, no. 
 
 Music, you hear, step to the, 24 ; 
 exalting effect of, 41 ; the sig 
 nificance of, 108 ; the sound of 
 the universal laws promulgated, 
 1 08; has no history, 115. 
 
 Nature, our double, 3 ; sympathy 
 of, with the human race, 5 ; the 
 moral quality of, and life, 8; 
 friendship and the love of, har 
 monize, 40; friendship in, 53; 
 humanity before, 74 ; poverty 
 of outward, 77 ; prevails over 
 man in a large landscape, 89; 
 no poetry so wild as, 91 ; a 
 border life between society and, 
 92 ; vision through the works of 
 man to the wildness of, 93 ; few 
 speak simply enough of, 106 ; 
 the promise in the face of, 119; 
 no book can match, 120; on the 
 side of what is best in us, 123. 
 
 Necessaries, providing, a -plea 
 sure, 69. 
 
 Neighbor, our nearest, 3. 
 
 Neighborhood, the best, 2. 
 
 News, as compared with eternal 
 
 truth, the, 17; the kind of, we 
 
 really want, 50. 
 Newspaper, life sacrificed to the, 
 
 joo ; a world outside of the, 
 
 100. 
 
 Newspapers, 48. 
 Noble, the offspring of the, tend 
 
 to a higher nobility, 63. 
 
 Obscurity above better than false 
 
 clearness below, 68. 
 Offspring of the noble tend to a 
 
 higher nobility, 63. 
 Out-door life, 94. 
 
 Palate, inspiration through the, 8. 
 
 Path, a person irresistible on his 
 own, 28. 
 
 Perception, the joy of love and of 
 intellectual, 62. 
 
 " Plain living and high think 
 ing, 1 17. 
 
 Poet, the hibernation of the, 105. 
 
 Poetry, no, so wild as nature, 91 ; 
 the authorship of, 104. 
 
 Polishing the world, 71. 
 
 Postponement, fatal, 75. 
 
 Poverty, need not take from us 
 the purest enjoyments, 26 ; ad 
 vantage of, 27 ; inward, 52 ; of 
 nature and internal wealth, 
 77- 
 
 Present, living in the, 22. 
 
 Problem of life, simplify the, 42 ; 
 wealth complicates the, 63. 
 
 Prospect, the interest of a new, 
 89. 
 
 Purification of a soul gives it a 
 new life, the, u. 
 
 Purity, inspires the soul, 9: and 
 sensuality each a single thing, 
 10. 
 
 Purpose, singleness of, 1 19. 
 
 Reader, there must be good hear 
 ing to make a good, 112. 
 
 Reading, the best kind of, i. 
 
 Reality, what alone has, 18 ; the 
 great, is ever here and now, 
 18; seek to penetrate through 
 surfaces to, 19; our faintest 
 dream points to the solidest, 
 43- 
 
 Realm within, the glory of the, 
 23. 
 
 Reform, individual life the true 
 source of, 44; is better than its 
 modes, 44.
 
 152 
 
 INDEX, 
 
 Reformer, what saddens the, 12 ; 
 
 the friend the only radical, 31 ; 
 
 pure love the radical, 63. 
 Religion, without the language of 
 
 religion, 99; the privacy of, 
 
 120. 
 
 Reproof, unconscious, 113. 
 Reserve, the lover s, 56. 
 Resolution, hours of, 106. 
 Rest for the soul, 49. 
 Ripeness, not merely the means, 
 
 114. 
 
 Sanity, our own cheerful, most 
 helpful to others, 12. 
 
 Science, the soul above, 91 ; 
 should be allied to inspiration, 
 102. 
 
 Sculptor, every one a, 10. 
 
 Self-renunciation, 49. 
 
 Self-respect, 67. 
 
 Sense, both common and divine, 
 should be consulted in mar 
 riage, 57. 
 
 Sensualist, the quality of the ap 
 petite makes the, 8. 
 
 Sensuality, purity and, each a 
 single thing, 10. 
 
 Simplicity of life not an end, but 
 
 a means, 76. 
 
 Sin, work a help against, 10. 
 
 Sincerity, a rare virtue, 76. 
 
 Singleness of purpose, 119. 
 
 Sky-lights, 55. 
 
 Slavery to affairs, 14. 
 
 Sleep, the organs of one s genius 
 reinvigorated by healthful, 15; 
 good and bad, 107. 
 
 Sloth and affection, 60. 
 
 Social ills, strike at the root of, 
 by purifying your own life, n. 
 
 Society, in solitude, i ; content 
 with a too narrow justice, 32 ; 
 the loneliness of false, 72 ; help 
 ful, 77; use all the, that will 
 abet you, 78; a border life be 
 tween nature and, 92 ; solitude 
 and, 117. 
 
 Solitude, society in, i ; the value 
 of, 5 ; appetite for, 80 ; friends 
 found in, 81 ; and society, 117 ; 
 of a human soul, the, 118. 
 
 Solvent for the world, thought a, 
 S3- 
 
 Soul, purity inspires the, 9; the 
 purification of a, gives it a new 
 life, ii ; humility enriches the, 
 more than culture, 27; money 
 
 not necessary for the, 27 ; a 
 friend nourishes the, 30 ; rest 
 for the, 49 ; faithfulness rather 
 than knowledge saves the, 63 ; 
 care for the body compared 
 with care for the, 64 ; value of a 
 clear, compared with material 
 gains, 67 ; above science, 91 ; 
 the body eats up the substance 
 of the, 103 ; the solitude of a 
 human, 118. 
 
 Souls, how finite unlikeness iso 
 lates, 73. 
 
 Spirit, a warm body and a cold, 
 69. 
 
 Spring, the influence of, 22 ; water 
 in early, 119 ; aspirations in the, 
 
 121. 
 
 Standard, the, within us, 112. 
 
 Stars, two solitary, determined to 
 one pole, 41. 
 
 State, the most precious produc 
 tions of a, 103. 
 
 Stress, lay the most, on that which 
 is most important, 76. 
 
 Style in writing, 79. 
 
 Success, real, 65 ; real, or failure 
 is in our thoughts, 82 ; comes 
 from devotion to ideas, 85. 
 
 Suicide, intellectual and moral, 
 101. 
 
 Swamps, the attractiveness of, 
 90. 
 
 Sympathy of nature with the hu 
 man race, 5. 
 
 Things correspond to our highest 
 idea, 74. 
 
 Thinking, sane, the battle in be 
 half of, 81 ; right, irresistible, 
 83 ; wild, delights us, oo. 
 
 Thought, the most indefinite, sig 
 nificant, 67 ; a solvent for the 
 world, 83 ; the realm of, laid 
 waste by worldly living, 93 ; 
 the compliment of valuing 
 one s, 94 ; the source of, above 
 ourselves, in. 
 
 Thread of life, cling to the, 47. 
 
 Time, the shallow stream of, 20 ; 
 not an ingredient of a perfect 
 work, 25 ; hours above, 104. 
 
 Tophet, a man s Elysium or, in 
 himself, 84. 
 
 Trifles, the earnest not hindered 
 by, 54- 
 
 Truth, the news as compared with 
 eternal, 17; the simplicity of,
 
 INDEX. 
 
 153 
 
 25; hearty, is one with love, 
 32; friends deal in pure, with 
 each other, 61 ; and institutions, 
 104; no, without love, 121. 
 Truthfulness, 59. 
 
 Ugly facts may be eradicated from 
 the life of man, 46. 
 
 Union, the highest, 66 ; yourself 
 and myself lost in, 66; ideal, 
 66. 
 
 Universe, the, conforms to our 
 highest ideas, 23. 
 
 Unknown, explore the, by mend 
 ing your ways, 86. 
 
 Unlikeness, how finite, isolates 
 souls, 73. 
 
 Value of a clear soul compared 
 with material gains, 67. 
 
 Views of men, the limited, 98. 
 
 Virtue, a spontaneous innocence 
 above, no. 
 
 Walk, the ideal of a, 87 ; worldly 
 cares forgotten in a true, 88. 
 
 Walker, a true, made so by the 
 grace of God, 88. 
 
 Walking, true, is not for exercise, 
 
 Wants, artificial, enslave us, 96. 
 
 Water in the early spring, 119. 
 
 Wealth, the true, 13; does not 
 help in our pursuit of the high 
 est, 27 ; complicates the prob 
 lem of life, 63 ; poverty of na 
 ture and internal, 77 ; real, n6. 
 
 Wildness, 22 ; the charm of, 89 ; 
 life consists with, 90. 
 
 Wisdom, and love, essential to 
 each other, 55 ; cannot take the 
 place of humanity, no. 
 
 Words, indefinite, may be most 
 significant, 24. 
 
 Work, a help against sin, 10 ; fidel 
 ity in, 28 ; essential to character, 
 29 ; necessity of, 70 ; high re 
 sults of, 71 ; the higher the aim, 
 the more earnest must be the, 
 71 ; in spite of moods, 72 ; one s 
 proper, and dissipation, 86 ; for 
 work s sake, 95. 
 
 World, the art of mankind is to 
 polish the, 71. 
 
 Writer, how physical labor may 
 help the, 106. 
 
 Writing, style in, 79. 
 
 Yourself and myself lost in the 
 highest union, 66.
 
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