methinks I should hear with indifference if a trustworthy messenger were to inform me that the sun drowned himself last night
11.25.2006
Thoreau's Journal: 25-Nov-1850
I feel a little alarmed when it happens that I have walked a mile into the woods bodily, without getting there in spirit. I would fain forget all my morning’s occupation, my obligations to society. But sometimes it happens that I cannot easily shake off the village; the thought of some work, some surveying, will run in my head, and I am not where my body is, I am out of my senses like a bird or beast. What business have I in the woods, if I am thinking of something out of the woods?
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