How little I am actually concerned about the things I write in my journal.

June 18. 

I should be pleased to meet man in the woods. I wish he were to be encountered like wild caribous and moose. 

I am startled when I consider how little I am actually concerned about the things I write in my journal. 

Think of the Universal History, and then tell me, -- when did burdock and plantain sprout first?  

A fair land, indeed  do books spread open to us, from the Genesis down; but alas! men do not take them up kindly into their own being, and breathe into them a fresh beauty, knowing that the grimmest of them be longs to such warm sunshine and still moonlight as the present.

Of what consequence whether I stand on London bridge for the next century, or look into the depths of this bubbling spring which I have laid open with my hoe?


H. D. Thoreau, Journal, June 18, 1840

June 18. See A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, June 18