Intended to get up early this morning and commence a series of spring walks, but clouds and drowsiness prevented. Early, however, I saw the clouds in the west, - for my window looks west, - suffused with rosy light, but that “flattery” is all forgotten now. How can one help being an early riser and walker in that season when the birds begin to twitter and sing in the morning?
What philosopher can estimate the different values of a waking thought and a dream?
I hear late to-night the unspeakable rain, mingled with rattling snow against the windows, preparing the ground for spring.