It doesn't all amount to one rhyme. There was a time when the beauty and the music were all within, and I sat and listened to my thoughts, and there was a song in them. I long lay on the rocks, foundered like a harp on the seashore, that knows not how it is dealt with. The inhumanity of science concerns me, as when I am tempted to kill a rare snake that I may ascertain its species. I feel this is not the means of acquiring true knowledge.
Health is a sound relation to nature.
From the experience of late years I should say that man's seed was the direct tax of his race. It stands for my sympathy with the race. When the brain chiefly is nourished, and not the affections, the seed becomes merely excremental. Early for several mornings I have heard the sound of a flail. It leads me to ask if I have spent as industrious a spring and summer as the farmer, and gathered as rich a crop of experience.