
How early in the year it begins to be late! It matters not by how little we have fallen behind: it seems irretrievably late. The year is full of warnings of its shortness, as is life.
from The Journal 1837–1861 by Henry David Thoreau
How early in the year it begins to be late! It matters not by how little we have fallen behind: it seems irretrievably late. The year is full of warnings of its shortness, as is life.
from The Journal 1837–1861 by Henry David Thoreau
The more thrilling, wonderful, divine objects I behold in a day, the more expanded and immortal I become.
from The Journal 1837–1861 by Henry David Thoreau
white satin moths fly through early morning fog
as i sit on the side porch in the hushed silence,
with my coffee and thoreau