Henry David Thoreau

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

Henry David Thoreau Quotes

  • ''But perhaps a man is not required to bury himself.''
    Henry David Thoreau (1817-1862), U.S. philosopher, author, naturalist. Walden (1854), in The Writings of Henry David Thoreau, vol. 2, p. 34, Houghton Mifflin (1906).
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  • ''Ignorance and bungling with love are better than wisdom and skill without.''
    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. 301, Houghton Mifflin (1906).
  • ''There is reason in the distinction of civil and uncivil. The manners are sometimes so rough a rind that we doubt whether they cover any core or sap-wood at all.''
    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. 212, Houghton Mifflin (1906).
  • ''Is the babe young? When I behold it, it seems more venerable than the oldest man.''
    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. 160, Houghton Mifflin (1906).
  • ''In Canada an ordinary New England house would be mistaken for the château, and while every village here contains at least several gentlemen or "squires," there is but one to a seigniory.''
    Henry David Thoreau (1817-1862), U.S. philosopher, author, naturalist. "A Yankee in Canada" (1853), in The Writings of Henry David Thoreau, vol. 5, p. 100, Houghton Mifflin (1906).
  • ''I found that they knew but little of the history of their race, and could be entertained by stories about their ancestors as readily as any way.''
    Henry David Thoreau (1817-1862), U.S. philosopher, author, naturalist. "Chesuncook" (1858) in The Maine Woods (1864), in The Writings of Henry David Thoreau, vol. 3, p. 150, Houghton Mifflin (1906).
  • ''I have lived some thirty-odd years on this planet, and I have yet to hear the first syllable of valuable or even earnest advice from my seniors.''
    Henry David Thoreau (1817-1862), U.S. philosopher, author, naturalist. journal entry, Feb. 11, 1852. Journals (1906). The thought was picked up again in Thoreau Walden, "Economy" (1854).
  • ''Books can only reveal us to ourselves, and as often as they do us this service we lay them aside.''
    Henry David Thoreau (1817-1862), U.S. philosopher, author, naturalist. Letter, April 26, 1857, to B.B. Wiley, in The Writings of Henry David Thoreau, vol. 6, pp. 300-301, Houghton Mifflin (1906).
  • ''Slow are the beginnings of philosophy.''
    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. 131, Houghton Mifflin (1906).
  • ''While the Governor, and the Mayor, and countless officers of the Commonwealth are at large, the champions of liberty are imprisoned.''
    Henry David Thoreau (1817-1862), U.S. philosopher, author, naturalist. "Slavery in Massachusetts" (1854), in The Writings of Henry David Thoreau, vol. 4, p. 404, 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

I Am The Autumnal Sun

Sometimes a mortal feels in himself Nature
-- not his Father but his Mother stirs
within him, and he becomes immortal with her
immortality. From time to time she claims
kindredship with us, and some globule
from her veins steals up into our own.

I am the autumnal sun,
With autumn gales my race is run;

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