Butwhileweareconfinedtobooks, thoughthemostselectandclassic, andreadonlyparticularwrittenlanguages, whicharethemselvesbutdialectsandprovincial, weareindangerofforgettingthelanguagewhichallthingsandeventsspeakwithoutmetaphor, , , orpoetry, nomatterhowwellselected, orthebestsociety, orthemostadmirableroutineoflife, comparedwiththedisciplineoflookingalwaysatwhatistobeseen? Willyoubeareader, astudentmerely, oraseer? Readyourfate, seewhatisbeforeyou, andwalkonintofuturity.
Ididnotreadbooksthefirstsummer; , , , inasummermorning, havingtakenmyaccustomedbath, Isatinmysunnydoorwayfromsunrisetillnoon, raptinarevery, amidstthepinesandhickoriesandsumachs, inundisturbedsolitudeandstillness, whilethebirdssingaroundorflittednoiselessthroughthehouse, untilbythesunfallinginatmywestwindow, orthenoiseofsometraveller'swagononthedistanthighway, , , , ; itwasmorning, andlo, nowitisevening, , , sittingonthehickorybeforemydoor, , bearingthestampofanyheathendeity, norweretheymincedintohoursandfrettedbythetickingofaclock; forIlivedlikethePuriIndians, ofwhomitissaidthat "foryesterday, today, andtomorrowtheyhaveonlyoneword, andtheyexpressthevarietyofmeaningbypointingbackwardforyesterdayforwardfortomorrow, andoverheadforthepassingday." Thiswassheeridlenesstomyfellow-townsmen, nodoubt; butifthebirdsandflowershadtriedmebytheirstandard, , , andwillhardlyreprovehisindolence.
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