Author: Henry David Thoreau

I am a parcel of vain strivings tied By a chance bond together, Dangling this way and that, their links […]

“Friends, Romans, Countrymen, and Lovers.” Let such pure hate still underprop Our love, that we may be Each other’s conscience, […]

My books I’d fain cast off, I cannot read, ‘Twixt every page my thoughts go stray at large Down in […]

Great God, I ask for no meaner pelf Than that I may not disappoint myself, That in my action I […]

Within the circuit of this plodding life There enter moments of an azure hue, Untarnished fair as is the violet […]

Pray to what earth does this sweet cold belong, Which asks no duties and no conscience? The moon goes up […]