Henry David Thoreau Quotations: OBSERVATIONS
The spring comes earlier to that dooryard than to any, and summer lingers longest there.—Journal, 26 November 1857
The trees now in the rain look heavy and rich all day, as commonly at twilight, drooping with the weight of wet leaves.—Journal, 17 July 1852
The true student will cleave ever to the good, recognizing no Past, no Present; but wherever he emerges from the bosom of time, his course is not with the sun,—eastward or westward,—but ever towards the seashore.—Journal, 15 February 1838
The truest account of heaven is the fairest & I will accept none which disappoints expectation. It is more glorious to expect a better, than to enjoy a worse.—Journal, 26 January 1852
The very sound of men's work reminds, advertises, me of the coming of spring.—Journal, 24 February 1852
The Vishnu Purana says, “The house-holder is to remain at eventide in his courtyard as long as it takes to milk a cow, or longer if he pleases, to await the arrival of a guest.” I often performed this duty of hospitality, waited long enough to milk a whole herd of cows, but did not see the man approaching from the town.—Walden
The wood-thrush sang on the distant shore, and the laugh of some loons, sporting in a concealed western bay, as if inspired by morning, came distinct over the lake to us, and, what was remarkable, the echo which ran round the lake was much louder than the original note; probably because, the loons being in a regularly curving bay under the mountain, we were exactly in the focus of many echoes, the sound being reflected like light from a concave mirror.—The Maine Woods
Their reflections fell on the eye like a clash of cymbals on the ear.—A Yankee in Canada
Then the gentle, spring-like rain begins, and we turn about. The sounds of it pattering on the dry oak leaves . . .—Journal, 14 February 1859
There are some who never do or say anything, whose life merely excites expectation. Their excellence reaches no further than a gesture or mode of carrying themselves. They are a sash dangling from the waist, or a sculptured war-club over the shoulder. They are like fine-edged tools gradually becoming rusty in a shop-window. I like as well, if not better, to see a piece of iron or steel, out of which many such tools will be made, or the bush-whack in a man’s hand.—Journal, 10 March 1859
