The hawk is aerial brother of the wave which he sails over and surveys, those his perfect air-inflated wings answering to the elemental unfledged pinions of the sea.
Henry David ThoreauHow earthy old people become --moldy as the grave! Their wisdom smacks of the earth. There is no foretaste of immortality in it. They remind me of earthworms and mole crickets.
Henry David ThoreauA stereotyped but unconscious despair is concealed even under what are called the games and amusements of mankind.
Henry David Thoreau