Thoreau writes in his journal:
P. M.—To Corner Spring and Fair Haven Hill . . .
On Fair Haven a quarter of an hour before sunset.—How fortunate and glorious that our world is not roofed in, but open like a Roman house,—our skylight so broad and open! We do not climb the hills in vain. It is no crystal palace we dwell in. The windows of the sky are always open, and the storms blow in at them . . .
