Inexpressibly beautiful appears the recognition by man of the least natural fact, and the allying his life to it.
When a man dies he kicks the dust.
How can any man be weak who dares to be at all?
We soon get through with nature. She excites an expectation which she cannot satisfy.
I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately.
Yet some can be patriotic who have no self-respect, and sacrifice the greater to the less. They love the soil which makes their graves, but have no sympathy with the spirit which may still animate their clay. Patriotism is a maggot in their heads.