Thoreau

I'm sure I read something bad once, but I don't remember it. Probably in some book review in the last year, or two. Plus, the odd quibble proves the rule..

A year or so ago Setanta wrote a sobering criticism of Thoreau's civil disobedience, and it's less than honorable origins here.

Thoreau had a problem with immigrant Irish. See if you can research and find something on Baker Farm and the Field family. Though a self acclaimed Unitarian he descended from Anglicans.

I looked for a quote attributed to him, but could not find it, in which he allegedly stated "The Irish rode in on the backs of the Anglicans like fleas on the back of a dog."

No one is perfect.

nobody can be thoreauly good.

Well, the truth is I haven't read Thoreau, nor have I read books about him. I don't remember Set's post, or I don't think I do, but seem to remember some negativity in a review. Ah well, I'll go to my cabin and think on it.

Thoreau never heard of leading by subtle example. He bragged and preached.

He taught school, but incurred the ire of the administration when he
refused to administer corporal punishment. He finally picked six students
at random and caned them just to make a point before he finally left.
Several of those whose backs he used to illustrate the folly of corporal
punishment resented him for the rest of their lives.

Ah, thank you all!

his cabin in the woods of nature was only a few blocks from his mama's house where he regularly ate sunday dinner (I suppose she did his laundry as well). interesting to note Henry David Thoreau real name was David Henry Thoreau.

Hmmm... did anyone with any money do their own laundry then? I have no idea! And, there ain't much near that cabin. Not now anyway.

He was known to be something of a free loader. For all his talk about living on beans, he was often a dinner guest of the Alcotts during his time at Walden Pond. However, I still like the guy and I'd probably have invited him over for dinner too.

That's along the lines of what I remember as someone's beef.

He was funny though. Just discovered his poems and am liking what i'm seeing.

Conscience
Conscience is instinct bred in the house,
Feeling and Thinking propagate the sin
By an unnatural breeding in and in.
I say, Turn it out doors,
Into the moors.
I love a life whose plot is simple,
And does not thicken with every pimple,
A soul so sound no sickly conscience binds it,
That makes the universe no worse than 't finds it.
I love an earnest soul,
Whose mighty joy and sorrow
Are not drowned in a bowl,
And brought to life to-morrow;
That lives one tragedy,
And not seventy;
A conscience worth keeping;
Laughing not weeping;
A conscience wise and steady,
And forever ready;
Not changing with events,
Dealing in compliments;
A conscience exercised about
Large things, where one may doubt.
I love a soul not all of wood,
Predestinated to be good,
But true to the backbone
Unto itself alone,
And false to none;
Born to its own affairs,
Its own joys and own cares;
By whom the work which God begun
Is finished, and not undone;
Taken up where he left off,
Whether to worship or to scoff;
If not good, why then evil,
If not good god, good devil.
Goodness! you hypocrite, come out of that,
Live your life, do your work, then take your hat.
I have no patience towards
Such conscientious cowards.
Give me simple laboring folk,
Who love their work,
Whose virtue is song
To cheer God along.

Indeed, indeed, I cannot tell

Indeed, indeed, I cannot tell,
Though I ponder on it well,
Which were easier to state,
All my love or all my hate.
Surely, surely, thou wilt trust me
When I say thou dost disgust me.
O, I hate thee with a hate
That would fain annihilate;
Yet sometimes against my will,
My dear friend, I love thee still.
It were treason to our love,
And a sin to God above,
One iota to abate
Of a pure impartial hate.