Experience bereaves us of our innocence; wisdom bereaves us of our ignorance. - Henry David Thoreau

Every child begins the world again, to some extent, and loves to stay outdoors, even in wet and cold. It plays house, as well as horse, having an instinct for it...At last we know not what it is to live in the open air, and our lives are domestic in more senses than we think.

Other roads do some violence to Nature, and bring the traveller to stare at her, but the river steals into the scenery it traverses without intrusion, silently creating and adoring it, and is as free to come and go as the zephyr.

There are two seasons when the leaves are in their glory, their green and perfect youth in June and this their ripe old age.