In the summer we lay up a stock of experiences for the winter, as the squirrel of nuts?something for conversation in winter evenings.

Live free, child of the mist,- and with respect to knowledge we are allchildren of the mist.

We often love to think now of the life of men on beaches,--at least in midsummer, when the weather is serene; their sunny lives onthe sand, amid the beach-grass and bayberries, their companion a cow, their wealth a jag of driftwood or a few beach plums, and their music the surf and the peep of the beech-bird.

To live a better life,--this surely can be done.

I begin to see an object when I cease to understand it.

You must not blame me if I do talk to the clouds.

Let a slight snow come and cover the earth, and the tracks of men will show how little the woods and fields are frequented.