Henry David Thoreau

(12 July 1817 – 6 May 1862 / Concord, Massachusetts)

Henry David Thoreau Quotes

  • ''Truth is his inspirer, and earnestness the polisher of his sentences. He could afford to lose his Sharp's rifles, while he retained his faculty of speech,—a Sharp's rifle of infinitely surer and longer range.''
    Henry David Thoreau (1817-1862), U.S. philosopher, author, naturalist. "A Plea for Captain John Brown" (1859), in The Writings of Henry David Thoreau, vol. 4, p. 427, Houghton Mifflin (1906).
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  • ''The constant abrasion and decay of our lives makes the soil of our future growth.''
    Henry David Thoreau (1817-1862), U.S. philosopher, author, naturalist. A Week on the Concord and Merrimack Rivers (1849), in The Writings of Henry David Thoreau, vol. 1, p. 375, Houghton Mifflin (1906).
  • ''Such pure and genuine and childlike love of Nature is hardly to be found in any poet.''
    Henry David Thoreau (1817-1862), U.S. philosopher, author, naturalist. A Week on the Concord and Merrimack Rivers (1849), in The Writings of Henry David Thoreau, vol. 1, p. 398, Houghton Mifflin (1906).
  • ''The monument of death will outlast the memory of the dead. The Pyramids do not tell the tale which was confided to them; the living fact commemorates itself.''
    Henry David Thoreau (1817-1862), U.S. philosopher, author, naturalist. A Week on the Concord and Merrimack Rivers (1849), in The Writings of Henry David Thoreau, vol. 1, p. 161, Houghton Mifflin (1906).
  • ''Deep are the foundations of sincerity. Even stone walls have their foundation below the frost.''
    Henry David Thoreau (1817-1862), U.S. philosopher, author, naturalist. A Week on the Concord and Merrimack Rivers (1849), in The Writings of Henry David Thoreau, vol. 1, p. 351, Houghton Mifflin (1906).
  • ''It requires nothing less than a chivalric feeling to sustain a conversation with a lady.''
    Henry David Thoreau (1817-1862), U.S. philosopher, author, naturalist. Journals, entry for Dec. 31, 1851 (1906).
  • ''The present hour is always wealthiest when it is poorer than the future ones, as that is the pleasantest site which affords the pleasantest prospects.''
    Henry David Thoreau (1817-1862), U.S. philosopher, author, naturalist. Letter, April 2, 1843, to Richard F. Fuller, in The Writings of Henry David Thoreau, vol. 6, p. 66, Houghton Mifflin (1906).
  • ''It was all smoke, and no salt, Attic or other.''
    Henry David Thoreau (1817-1862), U.S. philosopher, author, naturalist. Letter, January 1, 1859, to Harrison Blake, in The Writings of Henry David Thoreau, vol. 6, p. 345, Houghton Mifflin (1906).
  • ''Linnæus, setting out for Lapland, surveys his "comb" and "spare shirt," "leathern breeches" and "gauze cap to keep off gnats," with as much complacency as Bonaparte a park of artillery for the Russian campaign. The quiet bravery of the man is admirable.''
    Henry David Thoreau (1817-1862), U.S. philosopher, author, naturalist. "Natural History of Massachusetts" (1842), in The Writings of Henry David Thoreau, vol. 5, p. 107, Houghton Mifflin (1906).
  • ''Perhaps the facts most astounding and most real are never communicated by man to man.''
    Henry David Thoreau (1817-1862), U.S. philosopher, author, naturalist. Walden (1854), in The Writings of Henry David Thoreau, vol. 2, p. 239, Houghton Mifflin (1906).

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Best Poem of Henry David Thoreau

Friendship

I think awhile of Love, and while I think,
Love is to me a world,
Sole meat and sweetest drink,
And close connecting link
Tween heaven and earth.

I only know it is, not how or why,
My greatest happiness;
However hard I try,
Not if I were to die,
Can I explain.

I fain would ask my friend how it can be,
But when the time arrives,
Then Love is more lovely
Than anything to me,
And so I'm dumb.

For if the truth were known, Love cannot speak,
But only thinks and does;
Though surely out 'twill leak
Without the help of...

Read the full of Friendship

Epitaph On The World

Here lies the body of this world,
Whose soul alas to hell is hurled.
This golden youth long since was past,
Its silver manhood went as fast,
An iron age drew on at last;
'Tis vain its character to tell,
The several fates which it befell,
What year it died, when 'twill arise,
We only know that here it lies.

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