Henry David Thoreau Quotations: OBSERVATIONS
Nothing is so attractive and unceasingly curious as character. There is no plant that needs such tender treatment, there is none that will endure so rough. It is the violet and the oak.—Journal, 30 November 1841
Nothing was ever so unfamiliar and startling to me as my own thoughts.—Journal, 10 July 1840
October is the month for painted leaves. Their rich glow now flashes round the world. As fruits and leaves and the day itself acquire a bright tint just before they fall so the year near its setting. October is its sunset sky; November the later twilight.—"Autumnal Tints"
Of what significance the light of day, if it is not the reflection of an inward dawn?—to what purpose is the veil of night withdrawn, if the morning reveals nothing to the soul?—"Night and Moonlight"
On every hand we observe a truly wise practice, in education, in morals, and in the arts of life, the embodied wisdom of many an ancient philosopher.—A Week on the Concord and Merrimack Rivers
On foot, however, we continued up along the bank, feeling our way with a stick through the showery and foggy day, and climbing over the slippery logs in our path with as much pleasure and buoyancy as in brightest sunshine; scenting the fragrance of the pines and the wet clay under our feet, and cheered by the tones of invisible waterfalls; with visions of toadstools, and wandering frogs, and festoons of moss hanging from the spruce trees, and thrushes flitting silent under the leaves . . . —A Week on the Concord and Merrimack Rivers
On the death of a friend, we should consider that the fates through confidence have devolved on us the task of a double living, that we have hence forth to fulfill the promise of our friend's life also, in our own, to the world. —Journal, 28 February 1840
Once I was part and parcel of Nature—now I am observant of her.—Journal, 2 April 1852
One studies books of science merely to learn the language of naturalists—to be able to communicate with them.—Journal, 23 March 1853
One who knew how to appropriate the true value of this world would be the poorest man in it. The poor rich man! all he has is what he has bought. What I see is mine.—A Week on the Concord and Merrimack Rivers
