bank of a river, not close and precise like a bank or ditch.
It is always a short step to peace of mind.
I must not lose any of my freedom by being a farmer and landholder. Most who enter on any profession are doomed men. The world might as well sing a dirge over them forthwith. The farmer's muscles are rigid; he can do one thing long, not many well. His pace seems determined henceforth. He never quickens it. A very rigid Nemesis is his fate. When the right wind blows, or a star calls, I can leave this arable and grass ground without making a will or settling my estate. I would buy a farm as freely as a silken streamer. Let me not think my front windows must face east henceforth because a particular hill slopes that way. My life must undulate still. I will not feel that my wings are dipt when once I have settled on ground which the law calls my own, but find new pinions grown to the old, and talaria to my feet beside.
Sunday, March 27, 1842. The eye must be firmly anchored to this earth which beholds birches and pines waving in the breeze in a certain light, a serene, rippling light.
Cliffs. The little hawks have just come out to play, like butterflies rising one above the other in endless alternation, far below me.
