I did not wish to take a cabin passage, but rather to go before the ma >>
I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front on >>
Behave so the aroma of your actions may enhance the general sweetness >>
The soul that is attached to anything however much good there may be i >>
How strange a thing this is! The Priest telleth me that the Soul is wo >>
It matters not how strait the gate, How charged with punishments the s >>
However intense my experience, I am conscious of the presence and criticism of a part of me, which, as it were, is not a part of me, but a spectator, sharing no experience, but taking note of it, and that is no more I than it is you. When the play, it may be the tragedy, of life is over, the spectator goes his way. It was a kind of fiction, a work of the imagination only, so far as he was concerned.