In my Pantheon, Pan still reigns in his pristine glory, with his ruddy face, his flowing beard, and his shaggy body, his pipe and his crook, his nymph Echo, and his chosen daughter Iambe; for the great god Pan is not dead, as was rumored. No god ever dies. Perhaps of all the gods of New England and of ancient Greece, I am most constant at his shrine.
Henry David ThoreauA town is saved, not more by the righteous men in it, than by the woods and swamps that surround it.
Henry David ThoreauLeft to herself, nature is always more or less civilized, and delights in a certain refinement; but where the axe has encroached upon the edge of the forest, the dead and unsightly limbs of the pine, which she had concealed with green banks of verdure, are exposed to sight.
Henry David ThoreauI have now a library of nearly nine hundred volumes, over seven hundred of which I wrote myself.
Henry David Thoreau