methinks I should hear with indifference if a trustworthy messenger were to inform me that the sun drowned himself last night
Walden.—Yesterday I came here to live
...Thoreau's Journal: 05-Jul-1845
Saturday. Walden.—Yesterday I came here to live. My house makes me think of some mountain houses I have seen, which seemed to have a fresher auroral atmosphere about them, as I fancy of the halls of Olympus. I lodged at the house of a saw-miller last summer, on the Caatskill Mountains, high up as Pine Orchard, in the blueberry and raspberry region, where the quiet and cleanliness and coolness seemed to be all one,—which had their ambrosial character. He was the miller of the Kaaterskill Falls. They were a clean and wholesome family, inside and out, like their house. The latter was not plastered, only lathed, and the inner doors were not hung. The house seemed high-placed, airy, and perfumed, fit to entertain a traveling god. It was so high, indeed, that all the music, the broken strains, the waifs and accompaniments of tunes, that swept over the Caatskills, passed through its aisles. Could not man be man in such an abode? And would he ever find out this groveling life. It was the very light and atmosphere in which the works of Grecian art were composed, and in which they rest. They have appropriated to themselves a loftier hall than mortals ever occupy, at least on a level with the mountain-brows of the world. There was wanting a little of the glare of the lower vales, and in its place a pure twilight as became the precincts of heaven. Yet so equable and calm was the season there that you could not tell whether it was morning or noon or evening. Always there was the sound of the morning cricket.
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have we not all dreamed, hoped, and at least thought of living in the cabin in the woods!, not just visit as many have cottages, but survive away from the noise and stress and stench of man!,, few have! i myself have lived alone in the wilds for a time!, alas people are of such great importance to me!, and loneliness can hurt deep!,we are of the people and friends are such apart of me! i miss them when im gone to long!, and the older we get the more we need people!, at least once in a while?. michael jameson firstname.lastname@example.org
"How vain it is to sit down to write when you have not stood up to live."
if there is one thing that makes us better writers, better friends, better people, it is to get out the front door and simply live. Follow nature...it will lead you to where you need to be.
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