Henry David Thoreau Quotes About Love
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Our truest life is when we are in dreams awake.
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Pursue some path, however narrow and crooked, in which you can walk with love and reverence.
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Friends... they cherish one another's hopes. They are kind to one another's dreams.
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I have never found a companion that was so companionable as solitude. We are for the most part more lonely when we go abroad among men than when we stay in our chambers. A man thinking or working is always alone, let him be where he will.
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It is strange to talk of miracles, revelations, inspiration, and the like, as things past, while love remains.
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There is only one path to Heaven. On Earth, we call it Love.
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In a world of peace and love, music would be the universal language.
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Do not hire a man who does your work for money, but him who does it for love of it.
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Between whom there is hearty truth there is love.
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Those whom we can love, we can hate; to others we are indifferent.
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Yet some can be patriotic who have no self-respect, and sacrifice the greater to the less. They love the soil which makes their graves, but have no sympathy with the spirit which may still animate their clay. Patriotism is a maggot in their heads.
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To be a philosopher is not merely to have subtle thoughts, nor even to found a school, but so to love wisdom as to live according to its dictates, a life of simplicity, independence, magnanimity and trust.
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Only nature has a right to grieve perpetually, for she only is innocent. Soon the ice will melt, and the blackbirds sing along the river which he frequented, as pleasantly as ever. The same everlasting serenity will appear in this face of God, and we will not be sorrowful, if he is not.
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Love must be as much a light as it is a flame.
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Is it the lumberman, then, who is the friend and lover of the pine, stands nearest to it, and understands its nature best? Is it the tanner who has barked it, or he who has boxed it for turpentine, whom posterity will fable to have been changed into a pine at last? No! no! it is the poet: he it is who makes the truest use of the pine-who does not fondle it with an axe, nor tickle it with a saw, nor stroke it with a plane. . . .
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The only way to speak the truth is to speak lovingly.
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I find it wholesome to be alone the greater part of the time. To be in company, even with the best, is soon wearisome and dissipating. I love to be alone. I never found the companion that was so companionable as solitude.
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I came to love my rows, my beans, though so many more than I wanted. They attached me to the earth, and so I got strength like Antaeus.
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A farmer, a hunter, a soldier, a reporter, even a philosopher, may be daunted; but nothing can deter a poet, for he is actuated by pure love. Who can predict his comings and goings? His business calls him out at all hours, even when doctors sleep.
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I found in myself, and still find, an instinct toward a higher, or, as it is named, spiritual life, as do most men, and another toward a primitive rank and savage one, and I reverence them both. I love the wild not less than the good.
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What is the singing of birds, or any natural sound, compared with the voice of one we love.
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I love you not as something private and personal, which is my own, but as something universal and worthy of love which I have found.
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Dreams are the touchstones of our character.
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If misery loves company, misery has company enough.
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The purity men love is like the mists which envelope the earth, and not like the azure ether beyond.
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Enemies publish themselves. They declare war. The friend never declares his love.
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All that man has to say or do that can possibly concern mankind is in some shape or other to tell the story of his love-to sing, and, if he is fortunate and keeps alive, he will be forever in love.
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Love does not analyze its object.
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If one advances confidently in the direction of his dreams, and endeavors to live the life which he has imagined, he will meet with a success unexpected in common hours.
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May we so love as never to have occasion to repent of our love!
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