squirrels opened their cones at the wrong end, it was not the golden age, at any rate.
Feb. 22, 1841. . . . Friends will be much apart. They will respect more each other's privacy than their communion, for therein is the fulfillment of our high aims and the conclusion of our arguments. That we know and would associate with, not only has high intents, but goes on high errands, and has much private business. The hours my friend devotes to me were snatched from a higher society. He is hardly a gift level to me, but I have to reach up to take it. . . .
We have to go into retirement religiously, and enhance our meeting by rarity and a degree of unfamiliarity. Would you know why I see thee so seldom, my friend? In solitude I have been making up a packet for thee.
Some actions which grow out of common but natural relations affect me strangely, as some times the behavior of a mother to her children. So quiet and noiseless an action often moves me more than many sounding exploits.
Feb. 22, 1852. . . . Every man will take such views as he can afford to take. Views one would think were the most expensive guests to entertain. I perceive that the reason my neighbor cannot entertain certain views is the narrow limits within which he is obliged to live on account of the smallness of his means. His
