Friday, March 04, 2005

“Time is but the stream I go a-fishing in. I drink at it; but while I drink I see the sandy bottom and detect how shallow it is. Its thin current slides away, but eternity remains. I would drink deeper; fish in the sky, whose bottom is pebbly with stars. I cannot count one. I know not the first letter of the alphabet. I have always been regretting that I was not as wise as the day I was born. The intellect is a cleaver; it discerns and rifts its way into the secret of things.”
—Henry David Thoreau, Walden


1 Comments:

Blogger Hamuksha said...

We, who pass by most and see less, need to be overwhelmed with those revelations made by your discerning glimpses, your nourishing captures.

March 28, 2005 at 8:15 AM  

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