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The mind loves its old home.
By Ralph Waldo Emerson
Winter 2005 11.1.05

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We have crept out of our close and crowded houses into the night and morning, and we see what majestic beauties daily wrap us in their bosom. . . .

These enchantments are medicinal, they sober and heal us. These are plain pleasures, kindly and native to us. We come to our own, and make friends with matter. . . . We never can part with it; the mind loves its old home: as water to our thirst, so is the rock, the ground, to our eyes, and hands, and feet.

--Ralph Waldo Emerson (1803-1882)
From “Nature,” Essays: Second Series (1844)

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