The charm of the Indian to me is that he stands free and unconstrained in Nature, is her inhabitant and not her guest, and wears her easily and gracefully. But civilized man has the habits of the house. His house is a prison, in which he finds himself opposed and confined, not sheltered and protected. He walks as if he sustained the roof; he carries his arms as if the walls would fall in and crush him, and his feet remember the cellar beneath. His muscles are never relaxed. It is rare that he overcomes the house, and learns to sit at home in it...it is a great art to saunter. Journal 1841. HDT
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone