Nature

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

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)