November 24, 2011
Happy Thanksgiving, everyone !
[an excerpt from Thoreau's Journal, August 17, 1851:]
I am not so poor --
I can smell the ripening apples --
the very rills are deep --
the autumnal flowers, the Trichostema dichotoma --
not only its bright blue flower above the sand
but its strong wormwood scent
which belongs to the season --
feed my spirit --
endear the earth to me --
make me value myself & rejoice --
the quivering of pigeons' wings
reminds me of the tough fibre of the air which they rend.
I thank you, God.
I do not deserve anything.
I am unworthy of the least regard
& yet I am made to rejoice.
I am impure & worthless --
& yet the world is gilded for my delight
and holidays are prepared for me --
& my path is strewn with flowers.
1 year ago