You can always see a face in the fire. The laborer, looking into it at evening, purifies his thoughts of the dross and earthiness which they have accumulated during the day.
Henry David Thoreau
I have the habit of attention to such excess, that my senses get no rest - but suffer from a constant strain.
It is remarkable how long men will believe in the bottomlessness of a pond without taking the trouble to sound it.
Under a government which imprisons any unjustly, the true place for a just man is also a prison.
Front yards are not made to walk in, but, at most, through, and you could go in the back way.
I frequently tramped eight or ten miles through the deepest snow to keep an appointment with a beech-tree, or a yellow birch, or an old acquaintance among the pines.