Thoreau's Journal: 08-Jan-1852

I notice that almost every track which I made yesterday in the snow—perhaps ten inches deep—has got a dead leaf in it, though none is to be seen on the snow around.

Even as early as 3 o’clock these winter afternoons the axes in the woods sound like nightfall, like the sound of a twilight labor.

Reading from my manuscripts to Miss Emerson this evening and using the word “god” in one instance, in perchance a merely heathenish sense, she inquired hastily in a tone of dignified anxiety, “Is that god spelt with a little g?” Fortunately it was. (I had brought in the word “god” without any solemnity of voice or connection.) So I went on as if nothing had happened.

I perceive that the livid lettuce-leaved lichen which I gathered the other day has dried almost an ash or satin, with no green about it,—has bleached.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

I would encourage everyone who enjoys this blog to send a note to Dover Publications requesting that they re-publish "The Journal of Thoreau Vol. 1".

They currently publish Vol 2, but for some reason discontinued Vol 1. The used prices for this book have skyrocketed out of the reach of the average commoner.