Henry David Thoreau

We are not what we are, nor do we treat or esteem each other for such, but for what we are capable of being.

Do what you love. Know you own bone; gnaw at it, bury it, unearth it, and gnaw it still.

Our life is frittered away by detail. Simplify, simplify.

Our moments of inspiration are not lost though we have no particular poem to show for them; for those experiences have left an indelible impression, and we are ever and anon reminded of them.

To inherit property is not to be born – it is to be still-born, rather.

Do not worry if you have built your castles in the air. They are where they should be. Now put the foundations under them.

A sudden bold and unexpected question does many times surprise a man and lay him open.

Property is organized robbery.

There are two tragedies in life. One is not to get your heart’s desire. The other is to get it.

Facts are stubborn, but statistics are more pliable.

Do not waste your time on Social Questions. What is the matter with the poor is Poverty; what is the matter with the rich is Uselessness.

It is all that the young can do for the old, to shock them and keep them up to date.

Tis God gives skill, but not without men’s hand: He could not make Antonio Stradivarius’s violins without Antonio.

No man is much regarded by the rest of the world. He that considers how little he dwells upon the condition of others, will learn how little the attention of others is attracted by himself. While we see multitudes passing before us, of whom perhaps not one appears to deserve our notice or excites our sympathy, we should remember, that we likewise are lost in the same throng, that the eye which happens to glance upon us is turned in a moment on him that follows us, and that the utmost which we can reasonably hope or fear is to fill a vacant hour with prattle, and be forgotten.

Most people do not pray; they only beg.

A beautiful form is better than a beautiful face; it gives a higher pleasure than statues or pictures; it is the finest of the fine arts.

There is no character, howsoever good and fine, but it can be destroyed by ridicule, howsoever poor and witless. Observe the ass, for instance: his character is about perfect, he is the choicest spirit among all the humbler animals, yet see what ridicule has brought him to. Instead of feeling complimented when we are called an ass, we are left in doubt.

I am certainly not one of those who need to be prodded. In fact, if anything, I am the prod.

If all the economists were laid end to end, they would not reach a conclusion.

The worst of charity is that the lives you are asked to preserve are not worth preserving.

Our virtues are dearer to us the more we have had to suffer for them. It is the same with our children. All profound affection entertains a sacrifice. Our thoughts are often worse than we are, just as they are often better.