Henry David Thoreau Quotations: Nature
Nature never makes haste; her systems revolve at an even pace.—Journal, 17 September 1839
Nature will bear the closest inspection; she invites us to lay our eye level with the smallest leaf, and take an insect view of its plain. She has no interstices; every part is full of life.—"Natural History of Massachusetts"
Nature works by contraries. That which in summer was most fluid and unresting is now most solid and motionless.—Journal, 11 February 1859
Nature would not appear so rich, the profusion so rich, if we knew a use for everything.—Journal, 11 August 1853
Not till half a mile further my doubting companion feels another on his nose also, and I get one [in] my eye, and soon after I see the countless dimples in the puddles on the ice. So measured and deliberate is Nature always.—Journal, 14 February 1859
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
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
Once I was part and parcel of Nature—now I am observant of her.—Journal, 2 April 1852
Once, when Joe had called again, and we were listening for moose, we heard come faintly echoing, or creeping from far, through the moss-clad aisles, a dull, dry, rushing sound, with a solid core to it, yet as if half smothered under the grasp of the luxuriant and fungus-like forest, like the shutting of a door in some distant entry of the damp and shaggy wilderness.—The Maine Woods
Perchance, in the afternoon of such a day, when the water is perfectly calm and full of reflections, I paddle gently down the main stream, and, turning up the Assabet, reach a quiet cove, where I unexpectedly find myself surrounded by myriads of leaves, like fellow-voyagers, which seem to have the same purpose, or want of purpose, with myself.—"Autumnal Tints"
