Henry David Thoreau Quotations: Observation
We constantly anticipate repose. Yet it surely can only be the repose that is in entire and healthy activity. It must be a repose without rust.—Journal, 13 December 1841
We must look for a long time before we can see.—"Natural History of Massachusetts"
We rowed leisurely up the stream for several hours, until the sun had got high in the sky, our thoughts monotonously beating time to our oars. For outward variety there was only the river and the receding shores, a vista continually opening behind and closing before us, as we sat with our backs up-stream; and, for inward, such thoughts as the muses grudgingly lent us.—A Week on the Concord and Merrimack Rivers
We should read history as little critically as we consider the landscape, and be more interested by the atmospheric tints and various lights and shades which the intervening spaces create, than by its groundwork and composition. It is the morning now turned evening and seen in the west,—the same sun, but a new light and atmosphere. Its beauty is like the sunset; not a fresco painting on a wall, flat and bounded, but atmospheric and roving or free.—A Week on the Concord and Merrimack Rivers
We, too, are out, obeying the same law with all nature. Not less important are the observers of the birds than the birds themselves.—Journal, 20 March 1858
Wealth, no less than knowledge, is power.—Journal, 25 January 1841
What I see is mine.—A Week on the Concord and Merrimack Rivers
When you are starting away, leaving your more familiar fields, for a little adventure like a walk, you look at every object with a traveler's, or at least with historical, eyes; you pause on the first bridge, where an ordinary walk hardly commences, and begin to observe and moralize like a traveler. It is worth the while to see your native village thus sometimes, as if you were a traveler passing through it, commenting on your neighbors as strangers.—Journal, 4 September 1851
Who knows what beautiful and winged life, whose egg has been buried for ages under many concentric layers of woodenness in the dead dry life of society, deposited at first in the alburnum of the green and living tree, which has been gradually converted into the semblance of its well-seasoned tomb—heard perchance gnawing out now for years by the astonished family of man, as they sat round the festive board—may unexpectedly come forth from amidst society's most trivial and handselled furniture, to enjoy its perfect summer life at last!—Walden
You cannot perceive beauty but with a serene mind.—Journal, 18 November 1857
