Page:Winter - from the Journal of Henry D. Thoreau.djvu/58

44 Nobody else knows, and he alone knows when something comes between him and his object. In the course of generations, however, men will excuse you for not doing as they do, if you will bring enough to pass in your own way.

Dec. 28, 1840. The snow hangs on the trees as the fruit of the season. In those twigs which the wind has preserved naked there is a warmer green for the contrast. The whole tree exhibits a kind of interior and household comfort, a sheltered and covert aspect. It has the snug inviting look of a cottage on the moors, buried in snow.—Our voices ring hollowly through the woods as through a chamber, the twigs crackle under foot with private and house hold echoes. I have observed on a clear winter's morning that the woods have their southern window as well as the house, through which the first beams of the sun stream along their aisles and corridors. The sun goes up swiftly behind the limbs of the white pine, as the sashes of a window.

Dec. 28, 1852. Both for bodily and mental health court the present. Embrace health wherever you find her.

It is worth while to apply what wisdom one has to the conduct of his life, surely. I find my self oftenest wise in little things and foolish in great ones. That I may accomplish some petty,