I think of no news to tell you. It is a serene summer day here, all above the snow. The hens steal their nests, and I steal their eggs still, as formerly. This is what I do with the hands. Ah, labor,—it is a divine institution, and conversation with many men and hens.
Henry David Thoreau (1817–1862), U.S. philosopher, author, naturalist. Letter, February 20, 1843, to Ralph Waldo Emerson, in The Writings of Henry David Thoreau, vol. 6, p. 63, Houghton Mifflin (1906).