Thoreau writes in his journal:
I cannot conceive how a reran can accomplish anything worthy of him, unless his very breath is sweet to him. He must be particularly alive . . .
The hibiscus flowers are seen a quarter of a mile off over the water, like large roses, now that these high colors are rather rare. Some are exceedingly delicate and pale, almost white, just rose-tinted, others a brighter pink or rose-color, and all slightly plaited (the five large petals) and turned toward the sun, now in the west, trembling in the wind. So much color looks very rich in these localities . . .