Most men , it seems to me ,do not care for nature and would sell their share in all her beauty for a given sum. Thank God men have not yet learned to fly so they can lay waste the sky as well as the earth
We are receiving our portion of the infinite.The art of life! I do not remember any page which will tell me how to spend this afternoon. I do not so much wish to know how to economize time as how to spend it.The scenery,when it is truly seen,reacts on the life of the seer.How to live.how to get the most out of life.How to extract its honey from the flower of the world,That is my every-day business,I am as busy as a bee about it.Journal-September 1851.
The grass in the high pastures is almost as dry as hay.The seasons do not cease a moment to revolve, and therefore Nature rests no longer at her culminating point than at any other.If you are not out at the right instant, the summer may go by and you not see it.How much of the year is spring and fall!how little can be called summer!the grass is no sooner grown than it begins to wither.The Journal-August 19,1851.
All the world reposes in beauty to him who preserves equipoise in his life, and moves serenely on his path without secret violence; as he who sails down the stream, he only has to steer, keeping his bark in the middle, and carry around the falls…The forms of beauty fall naturally around the path of him who is in the performance of his proper work…Art can never match the luxury and surperfluity of Nature.In the former all is seen; it cannot afford concealed wealth, and is niggardly in comparison; but Nature,even when she is scant and thin outwardly, satisfies us still by the assurances of a certain generosity at the roots.From “Concord and Merrimack Rivers-Thursday”-1849.
Time is but the stream i go a-fishing in.I drink at it; but while I drink I see the sandy bottom and detect how shallow it is.Its current slides away, but eternity remains. I would drink deeper; fish in the sky, whose bottom is pebbly with stars.i cannot count one.i know not the first letter of the alphabet. i have always been regretting that I was not as wise as the day I was born.Walden
With liberty and and pleasant weather weather,the simplest occupation, any unquestioned country mode of life which detains us in the open air, is alluring.The man who picks peas steadily for a living is more respectable, he is even envied by his shopworn neighbors.We are as happy as the birds when our Good Genius permits us to pursue any outdoor work without a sense of dissipation.
From “A Week on the Concord and Merrimack Rivers”-1849
Nature doth thus kindly heal every wound.By the mediation of a thousand little mosses and fungi, the most unsightly objects become radiant of beauty.There seem to be two sides of this world, presented us at different times, as we see things in growth or dissolution, in life or death.for seen with the eye of the poet, as God sees them, all things are alive ans beautiful; but seen with the historical eye, or eye of the memory, they are dead and offensive.If we see Nature as pausing, immediately all mortifies and decays; but seen as progressing, she is beautiful.March 13,1842.