The tempered light of the woods is like perpetual morning, and is stimulating and heroic. The anciently reported spells of these places creep on us. The stems of pines, hemlocks, and oaks, almost gleam like iron on the excited eye. The incommunicable trees begin to persuade us to live with them and quit our life of solemn trifles. Here no history, or church, or state, is interpolated on the divine sky and immortal year.
-Emerson
-Emerson
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