Shall we always study to obtain more of these things, and not sometimes to be content with less?
Silence is the communing of a conscious soul with itself.
Sometimes, in a summer morning,having taken my accustomed bath, I sat in my sunny doorway from sunrisetill noon, rapt in a revery, amidst the pines and hickories and sumachs,in undisturbed solitude an...
Sometimes, in a summer morning, having taken my accustomed bath, I sat in my sunny doorway from sunrise till noon, rapt in a revery, amidst the pines and hickories and sumachs, in undisturbed solitude...
The civilized man is a more experienced and wiser savage.
The commonest sense is the sense of men asleep, which they express by snoring.
The doctors are all agreed that I am suffering from want of society. Was never a case like it. First, I did not know that I was suffering at all. Secondly, as an Irishman might say, I had thought it w...
The mass of men serve the state thus, not as men mainly, but as machines, with their bodies
The moose will perhaps one day become extinct; but how naturally then, when it exists only as a fossil relic, and unseen as that, may the poet or sculptor invent a fabulous animal with similar branchi...
The squirrel that you kill in jest, dies in earnest.
There are none happy in the world but beings who enjoy freely a vast horizon—said Damodara,
There is in my nature, methinks, a singular yearning toward all wildness.
This man is still a fisher, and belongs to an era in which I myself have lived. Perchance he is not confounded by many knowledges, and has not sought out many inventions, but how to take many fishes b...
This world is but canvas to our imaginations.
We commonly do not remember that it is … always the first person that is speaking.
We might climb a tree, at least.
We should be men first, and subjects afterward.
We should go forth on the shortest walk, perchance, in the spirit of undying adventure, never to return; prepared to send back our embalmed hearts only, as relics to our desolate kingdoms. If you are...
What a man thinks of himself, that it is which determines, or rather indicates, his fate.
What sort of philosophers are we, who know absolutely nothing of the origin and destiny of cats?
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