Thoreau writes in his journal:
At 10 A.M., thermometer 18º . . .
P.M.—To the sweet-gale meadow or swamp up Assabet . . .
A man may be old and infirm. What, then, are the thoughts he thinks? what the life he lives? They and it are, like himself, infirm. But a man may be young, athletic, active, beautiful. Then, too, his thoughts will be like his person. They will wander in a living and beautiful world. If you are well, then how brave you are! How you hope! You are conversant with joy! A man thinks as well through his legs and arms as his brain . . .
