I am reminded of spring by the quality of the air . . . It is a natural resurrection, an experience of immortality.—Journal, 24 February 1852
I love to see a clear crystalline water flowing out of a swamp over white sand and decayed wood, spring-like.—Journal, 18 July 1852
I love to wade and flounder through the swamp now, these bitter cold days when the snow lies deep on the ground, and I need travel but little way from the town to get to a Nova Zembla solitude,—to wade through the swamps, all snowed up, untracked by man, into which the fine dry snow is still drifting till it is even with the tops of the water andromeda and halfway up the high blueberry bushes.—Journal, 10 January 1856
If a man do not revive with nature in the spring, how shall he revive when a white-collared priest prays for him? —Journal, 20 March 1858
If rivers come out of their icy prison thus bright and immortal, shall not I too resume my spring life with joy and hope?—Journal, 29 February 1852
If the race had never lived through a winter what would they think was coming?—Journal, 8 November 1850
In a pleasant spring morning all men's sins are forgiven.—Walden 
In summer it is the earth's liquid eye, a mirror in the breast of nature.—"A Winter Walk"
In the night the eyes are partly closed or retire into the head. Other senses take the lead. The walker is guided as well by the sense of smell. Every plant and field and forest emits its odor now, swamp-pink in the meadow and tansy in the road; and there is the peculiar dry scent of corn which has begun to show its tassels.—Cape Cod
In the summer we lay up a stock of experiences for the winter, as the squirrel of nuts?something for conversation in winter evenings.—Journal, 4 September 1851
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