“ The intellect is a cleaver; it discerns and rifts its way into the secret of things. ”
Henry David Thoreau, Walden (1854). copy citation
| Author | Henry David Thoreau |
|---|---|
| Source | Walden |
| Topic | intellect secret |
| Date | 1854 |
| Language | English |
| Reference | |
| Note | |
| Weblink | https://www.gutenberg.org/files/205/205-h/205-h.htm |
Context
“I would drink deeper; fish in the sky, whose bottom is pebbly with stars. I cannot count one. I know not the first letter of the alphabet. I have always been regretting that I was not as wise as the day I was born. The intellect is a cleaver; it discerns and rifts its way into the secret of things. I do not wish to be any more busy with my hands than is necessary. My head is hands and feet. I feel all my best faculties concentrated in it. My instinct tells me that my head is an organ for burrowing, as some creatures use their snout and fore-paws, and with it I would mine and burrow my way through these hills.”
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