Norwottuck, though the day is warm, I found a huge snowbank--the last
held trench of old winter, the last guerilla of the cold, driven to the
fastnesses of the hills.... I have enjoyed this day without trying.
After the first hour or so of it all the worries dropped away, all the
ambitions, all the twisted thoughts--

It is strange how much thrilling joy there is in the discovery of the
ages-old miracle of returning life in the woods: each green adventurer,
each fragrant joy, each bird-call--and the feel of the soft, warm
sunshine upon one's back after months of winter. On any terms life is
good. The only woe, the only Great Woe, is the woe of never having been
born. Sorrow, yes; failure, yes; weakness, yes the sad loss of dear
friends--yes! But oh, the good God: I still live!

Being alone without feeling alone is one of the great experiences of
life, and he who practises it has acquired an infinitely valuable
possession. People fly to crowds for happinesss not knowing that all the
happiness they find there they must take with them. Thus they divert and
distract that within them which creates power and joy, until by flying
always away from themselves, seeking satisfaction from without rather
than from within, they become infinitely boresome to themselves, so that
they can scarcely bear a moment of their own society.

But if once a man have a taste of true and happy retirement, though it
be but a short hour, or day, now and then, he has found, or is beginning
to find, a sure place of refuge, of blessed renewal, toward which in the
busiest hours he will find his thoughts wistfully stealing. How stoutly
will he meet the buffets of the world if he knows he has such a place of
retirement where all is well-ordered and full of beauty, and right
counsels prevail, and true things are noted.