What is the difference between rushing to be in fashion,
and rushing to conform?
Tag: quotes
“Blurtso checks the want ads”
I have only one rule when looking for a job.
Beware of enterprises that require any clothes at all.
“Morton’s Pond” (XXVI)
“Sights” – Stillness of sky. Stillness of lake. Joined in reflection. Clouds blown together, clouds blown apart. Spider, fly, eater and eaten, diner and dinner, survivor and snack… joined in reflection.
“Morton’s Pond” (XXIV)
“Thoughts” – It’s hard to believe Thoreau became famous for doing this. Living in these woods and writing down his thoughts. I guess a lot of people say they would like to live in the woods, but almost none of them do it. Maybe that’s why he became famous—because people can continue to live in their big houses in the city and can read about living in a cabin. They can experience it without doing it. Maybe that’s what humans are looking for in life, to experience things without really doing them. That would explain all the televisions and computers and iPhones.
“Morton’s Pond” (XIX)
“Sounds” – Another day with Pablo. Listening to him talk to me and listening to me talk to him. I could also hear Bonny and Ditto by the lake. I think they were painting because I could smell the paint. There were large patches of silence between the words they were saying. Or maybe the patches of silence were when I was listening to Pablo or myself talk.
“Morton’s Pond” (XVII)
“Tastes” – Thinking about eating. Me eating grass. Clouds eating colors. Sounds eating sounds and ticks eating me… even thoughts eating thoughts. Everything a big circle of eating.
“Morton’s Pond” (XVI)
“Sounds” – My breath. Panting as I propped up the walls of my shelter. I didn’t even hear the train to Concord because I was so focused on building. You can only hear what you happen to be listening to, or else the sound of building ate up the sound of the train.
“Morton’s Pond” (XV)
“Sights”: My home in ruins. Blown to the ground by last night’s storm. No more cracks where the wind made noise. No more shade. No shelter. Just a heap of boards. And the wet ground.
“Morton’s Pond” (XIV)
“Smells” – Rain on the wind. Another storm approaching. And something I don’t recognize. Possibly the smell of a deer tick. But I’ve never smelled a deer tick before, so I can’t be sure. I suppose you can’t be sure of what you’re smelling until you are.
“Morton’s Pond” (XIII)
“Sights”: Sunshine through the clouds. Silver drops on the leaves and ground. Wet tree bark. Mud and bits of leaves on my hooves and ankles. Patches of blue spilled on the lake.