Walden

That knows no bound, and that heroic virtue
     For which antiquity hath left no name,
     But patterns only, such as Hercules,
     Achilles, Theseus. Back to thy loath’d cell;
     And when thou seest the new enlightened sphere,
     Study to know but what those worthies were.”
                                    T. CAREW


Where I Lived, and What I Lived For

At a certain season of our life we are accustomed to consider every
spot as the possible site of a house. I have thus surveyed the country
on every side within a dozen miles of where I live. In imagination I
have bought all the farms in succession, for all were to be bought, and
I knew their price. I walked over each farmer’s premises, tasted his
wild apples, discoursed on husbandry with him, took his farm at his
price, at any price, mortgaging it to him in my mind; even put a higher
price on it,—took everything but a deed of it,—took his word for his
deed, for I dearly love to talk,—cultivated it, and him too to some
extent, I trust, and withdrew when I had enjoyed it long enough,
leaving him to carry it on. This experience entitled me to be regarded
as a sort of real-estate broker by my friends. Wherever I sat, there I