The news we hear, for the most part, is not news to our genius. It is the stalest repetition.
—"Life without Principle"The newspapers are the ruling power. What Congress does is an after-clap.
—Journal, 17 November 1850
The night is oracular. What have been the intimations of the night? I ask. How have you passed the night? Good-night!
—Journal, 27 October 1851The obstacles which the heart meets with are like granite blocks which one alone can not move.
—Journal, 27 October 1851The occupied ear thinks that beyond the cricket no sound can be heard, but there is an immortal melody that may be heard morning, noon, and night, by ears that can attend, and from time to time this man or that hears it, having ears that were made for music.
—Journal, 21 July 1851The oldest Egyptian or Hindoo philosopher raised a corner of the veil from the statue of the divinity; and still the trembling robe remains raised, and I gaze upon as fresh a glory as he did, since it was I in him that was then so bold, and it is he in me that now reviews the vision.
—WaldenThe only faith that men recognize is a creed. But the true creed which we unconsciously live by, and which rather adopts us than we it, is quite different from the written or preached one.
—Journal, 3 September 1839The only house I had been the owner of before, if I except a boat, was a tent, which I used occasionally when making excursions in the summer, and this is still rolled up in my garret; but the boat, after passing from hand to hand, has gone down the stream of time. With this more substantial shelter about me, I had made some progress toward settling in the world.
—WaldenThe past is the canvass on which our idea is painted,—the dim prospectus of our future field. We are dreaming of what we are to do.
—"The Service"The penny-post is, commonly, an institution through which you seriously offer a man that penny for his thoughts which is so often safely offered in jest. And I am sure that I never read any memorable news in a newspaper.
—WaldenThe philanthropist too often surrounds mankind with the remembrance of his own castoff griefs as an atmosphere, and calls it sympathy.
—WaldenThe philosophy and poetry and religion of such a mankind are not worth the dust of a puffball.
—"Life without Principle"The poem is drawn out from under the feet of the poet, his whole weight has rested on this ground.
—Journal, January 1840The poet leaves not a single chord untouched if the reader will but yield himself up to his influence.
—"L' Allegro & il Penseroso"The poet or the artist never had so fair and noble a design but some of his posterity at least could accomplish it.
—WaldenThe poet says the proper study of mankind is man. I say study to forget all that—take wider views of the universe.
—Journal, 2 April 1852The poor President, what with preserving his popularity and doing his duty, is completely bewildered.
—"Life without Principle"