I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential
facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to
die, discover that I had not lived. I did not wish to live what was not life, living is so dear;
nor did I wish to practise resignation, unless it was quite necessary. I wanted to live deep
and suck out all the marrow of life, to live so sturdily and Spartan-like as to put to rout
all that was not life, to cut a broad swath and shave close, to drive life into a corner, and
reduce it to its lowest terms, and, if it proved to be mean, why then to get the whole and
genuine meanness of it, and publish its meanness to the world; or if it were sublime, to
know it by experience, and be able to give a true account of it in my next excursion. […]
Our life is frittered away by detail. An honest man has hardly need to count more than
his ten fingers, or in extreme cases he may add his ten toes, and lump the rest. Simplicity,
simplicity, simplicity! I say, let your affairs be as two or three, and not a hundred or
a thousand; instead of a million count half a dozen, and keep your accounts on your
thumb nail. In the midst of this chopping sea of civilized life, such are the clouds and
storms and quicksands and thousand-and-one items to be allowed for, that a man has to
live, if he would not founder and go to the bottom and not make his port at all, by dead
reckoning, and he must be a great calculator indeed who succeeds. Simplify, simplify.
Instead of three meals a day, if it be necessary eat but one; instead of a hundred dishes,
five; and reduce other things in proportion. […] Men think that it is essential that the
Nation have commerce, and export ice, and talk through a telegraph, and ride thirty
miles an hour, without a doubt, whether they do or not; but whether we should live like
baboons or like men, is a little uncertain. If we do not get out sleepers, and forge rails,
and devote days and nights to the work, but go to tinkering upon our lives to improve
them, who will build railroads? And if railroads are not built, how shall we get to heaven
in season? But if we stay at home and mind our business, who will want railroads?
We do not ride on the railroad; it rides upon us. […]
Why should we live with such hurry and waste of life? We are determined to be
starved before we are hungry. Men say that a stitch in time saves nine, and so they take
a thousand stitches to-day to save nine to-morrow. As for work, we haven't any of any
consequence. […]
Replica of Thoreau's little one-room cabin in the woods at Walden Pond.
Let us spend one day as deliberately as Nature, and not be thrown off the track by every
nutshell and mosquito's wing that falls on the rails. Let us rise early and fast, or break
fast, gently and without
perturbation;
let company
come and let company
go,
let the bells ring and the
children
cry, – determined
to make a day of it. Why
should we knock under
and go with the stream?
Let us not be upset and
overwhelmed
in that terrible
rapid and whirlpool called
a dinner, situated in the
meridian
shallows. Weather
this danger and you are safe,
for the rest of the way is down hill. With unrelaxed nerves, with morning vigor, sail by it,
looking another way, tied to the mast like Ulysses. If the engine whistles, let it whistle till
it is hoarse for its pains. If the bell rings, why should we run? We will consider what kind
of music they are like. Let us settle ourselves, and work and wedge our feet downward
through the mud and slush of opinion, and prejudice,
and tradition, and delusion, and
appearance, that alluvion which covers the globe.