Commonplace Book
Mar 01, 2022
3 minutes
Collected by Anne Matthews
A year is made up of a certain series and number of sensations and thoughts which have their language in nature. Now I am ice, now I am sorrel.
—Henry David Thoreau, Journal, June 6, 1857
“My sister had a gun, and as we walked she would throw bottles into the air and shoot as many as she could before they hit the ground. I had nothing but to walk into nowhere and the wide sunset space with the star. Ten watercolors were made from that star.” In a way
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