A man is rich in proportion to the number of things which he can afford to let alone.
I am no more lonely than the loon in the pond that laughs so loud, or than Walden Pond itself. I am no more lonely than a single mullein or dandelion in a pasture, or a bean leaf, or a housefly, or a bumblebee. I am no more lonely than the Mill Brook, or a weathercock, or the north star, or the south wind, or an April shower, or a January thaw, or the first spider in a new house.
In my walks I would fain return to my senses. What business have I in the woods, if I am thinking of something out of the woods?
