Consciousness in Concord
More quotes from Consciousness in Concord - one of Thoreau's journals.
"I had two friends. The one offered me friendship on such terms that I could not accept it, without a sense of degradation. He would not meet me on equal terms, but only be to some extent my patron. He would not come to see me, but was hurt if I did not visit him. He would nnot readily accept a favor, but would gladly confer one. He treated me with ceremony occasionally, though he could be simple and downright sometimes; ...."
I stood by the river today, considering the forms of the elms reflected in the water. For every oak and birch, too, growing on the hilltop, as well as for elms and willows, there is a graceful ethereal tree making down from the roots, as it were the original idea of the tree...
To my friend I write a letter, & from him I get a letter. It is a spiritual gift worthy of him to give & of me to receive. It profanes nobody. In these warm lines the heart will trust itself as it will not to the tongue...
Methink I hear the clarion sound, and the clang of corselet and buckler from many a silent hamelt of the soul. The morning gun has long since sounded, and we are not yet at our posts.
I should wither and dry up if it were not for lakes and rivers.
The dead tree still stands erect without shame or offence amidst its green brethren, the most picturesque object in the wood. The painter puts it into the foreground of his picture, for in death it is still remembered.
"I had two friends. The one offered me friendship on such terms that I could not accept it, without a sense of degradation. He would not meet me on equal terms, but only be to some extent my patron. He would not come to see me, but was hurt if I did not visit him. He would nnot readily accept a favor, but would gladly confer one. He treated me with ceremony occasionally, though he could be simple and downright sometimes; ...."
I stood by the river today, considering the forms of the elms reflected in the water. For every oak and birch, too, growing on the hilltop, as well as for elms and willows, there is a graceful ethereal tree making down from the roots, as it were the original idea of the tree...
To my friend I write a letter, & from him I get a letter. It is a spiritual gift worthy of him to give & of me to receive. It profanes nobody. In these warm lines the heart will trust itself as it will not to the tongue...
Methink I hear the clarion sound, and the clang of corselet and buckler from many a silent hamelt of the soul. The morning gun has long since sounded, and we are not yet at our posts.
I should wither and dry up if it were not for lakes and rivers.
The dead tree still stands erect without shame or offence amidst its green brethren, the most picturesque object in the wood. The painter puts it into the foreground of his picture, for in death it is still remembered.