Those Maine woods differ essentially from ours. There you are never reminded that the wilderness which you are threading is, after... all, some villager's familiar wood-lot, some widow's thirds, from which her ancestors have sledded fuel for generations, minutely described in some old deed which is recorded, of which the owner has got a plan, too, and old bound-marks may be found every forty rods, if you will search.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
Taking a surveyor's and a naturalist's liberty, I have been in the habit of going across your lots much oftener than is usual, as ...many of you, perhaps to your sorrow, are aware. Yet many of you, to my relief, have seemed not to be aware of it; and, when I came across you in some out-of-the-way nook of your farms, have inquired, with an air of surprise, if I were not lost, since you had never seen me in that part of the town or county before; when, if the truth were known, and it had not been for betraying my secret, I might with more propriety have inquired if you were not lost, since I have never seen you there before. I have several times shown the proprietor the shortest way out of his wood-lot.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
It would be as wise to set up an accomplished lawyer to saw wood as a business as to condemn an educated and sensible woman to spe...nd all her time boiling potatoes and patching old garments. Yet this is the lot of many a one who incessantly stitches and boils and bakes, compelled to thrust back out of sight the aspirations which fill her soul.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
it was older sure than this year's cutting, Or even last year's or the year's before.... The wood was gray and the bark warping off it And the pile somewhat sunken. Clematis Had wound strings round and round it like a bundle.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
To begin at the beginning: It is spring, moonless night in the small town, starless and bible-black, the cobblestreets silent and ...the hunched courters'-and-rabbits' wood limping invisible down to the sloeblack, slow, black, crowblack, fishingboat-bobbing sea.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
O hurry to the ragged wood, for there I will drive all those lovers out and cry... O my share of the world, O yellow hair! No one has ever loved but you and I.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
Like vinegar on a wound is one who sings songs to a heavy heart. Like a moth in clothing or a worm in wood, sorrow gnaws at the hu...man heart.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »