Henry David Thoreau is the friendliest of philosophers, in no small part because his search for life’s meaning was conducted with a first-person simplicity that gives his quest a narrative appeal: “I went to the woods,” he writes of his famous sojourn at Walden Pond, “because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived.” Culled from his copious journals, his thoughts are assembled into discrete chapters—“Where I Lived, and What I Lived For,” “Reading,” “Solitude,” “Visitors,” “The BeanField,” “The Village,” “Winter Animals,” and “Spring,” to name a sampling. His close observations of the world about him—take the catalog of noises, from train whistle to cock’s crow, so faithfully rehearsed in “Sounds”—summon from his pen warnings about the conformist habits of society as well as rhapsodies about the liberating energies of nature. A profound influence on environmentalists, economists, rebels, and activists, Walden remains a tonic for any pensive reader trying to make sense of his or her own necessities.
In this age of consumption, Walden shows us the anthithesis - essentialism. What is truly needed for a good quality of life? Are we, in fact, missing out on the natural world by chasing the fast-paced life? Thoreau paints a romantic picture of his slow, intentional life that goes far deeper than glossy magazines. Whether you've ever grown up next to a cornfield, made fishing poles out of sticks, or spent days in peaceful solitude, Walden makes it clear that there's something beautiful about that life.
«Andai nei boschi perché desideravo vivere deliberatamente, affrontare solo i fatti essenziali della vita, e vedere se non potessi imparare cosa avesse da insegnare, senza scoprire, giunto alla morte, di non aver vissuto. Non desideravo vivere ciò che non era una vita, per quanto caro mi sia il vivere; né desideravo praticare la rassegnazione, a meno che non fosse necessaria. Volevo vivere in profondità e succhiare tutto il midollo della vita, vivere in modo così risoluto e spartano da sbaragliare tutto quanto non fosse vita; da aprirmi con la falce un varco ampio e raso terra, da spingere nell'angolo la vita e ridurla ai minimi termini; e, se si fosse dimostrata essere meschina, da arrivare, perché no?, alla sua completa e genuina meschinità, rendendola pubblica al mondo; o se fosse stata sublime, da conoscerla per esperienza; e da essere in grado di darne un resoconto sincero nella mia successiva escursione letteraria. Perché gran parte degli uomini, mi pare, ha una strana incertezza al riguardo, se sia del diavolo o di Dio, e ha _un po' frettolosamente_ concluso che il primo fine dell'uomo su questa terra è "rendere gloria a Dio e goderlo per l'eternità".»
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