We cannot write well or truly but what we write with gusto.

Life consists with wildness. The most alive is the wildest. Not yet subdued to man, its presence refreshes him.

Good deeds are no less good because their object is unworthy.

How many things there are concerning which we might well deliberate whether we had better know them.

Once I went so far as to slaughter a woodchuck which ravaged my bean-field,--effect his transmigration, as a Tartar would say,--and devour him, partly for experiment's sake; but though it afforded me a momentary enjoyment, notwithstanding a musky flavor, I saw that the longest use would not make that a good practice, however it might seem to have your woodchucks ready dressed by the village butcher.

We have not so good a right to hate any as our Friend.

I noticed, as I had done before, that there was a lull among the mosquitoes about midnight, and that they began again in the morning. Nature is thus merciful. But apparently they need rest as well as we.