255 things from this book went into her brain. Here are the first 6.
Thoreau holds that a writer owes readers a plain and honest account of his own life, because a book that hides the writer's experience is hard to trust.
Thoreau asks whether the hard conditions people put up with at work and at home have to be as bad as they are, and whether they could be made better.
Thoreau warns that inherited farms and possessions can weigh a person down, since they are much easier to acquire than to get rid of.
Thoreau argues that people worn out by toil lose the leisure to live with integrity, and that the finest qualities of a person need gentle handling to survive.
Thoreau describes people stuck in debt who keep promising to pay tomorrow, and sees a life spent getting out of debt as one that buries the person who lives it.
Thoreau says the hardest master is the one a person becomes to himself, and that what a man thinks of himself shapes his fate more than public opinion does.
Thoreau says most people live lives of quiet desperation, and that a wise person avoids doing desperate things, including the amusements that come after work.
Thoreau urges us to question inherited prejudices, since no way of thinking can be trusted without proof, and what the old say cannot be done is often found to be possible.
Thoreau notes that what counts as a necessity differs from one circle to another, and that human capacities have never been fully tested by anyone.
Thoreau suggests that we might learn a great deal by seeing life through another person's eyes, and that much of what our neighbours call good is worth doubting.
Thoreau observes that we can trust life a good deal more than we do, and that constant anxiety is a kind of sickness that we bring on ourselves.
Thoreau suggests that the basic needs of life have changed little over the ages, so a person should ask honestly what they truly need before adding anything else.
Thoreau separates the true necessaries of life from habits that have simply become customs, and says we must secure the basics before we can take on life's real problems with freedom.
Thoreau mocks people who spend decades trading in distant lands only to live comfortably and return home at last, and asks whether that is how a life should be spent.
Thoreau argues that many luxuries and comforts hinder people rather than help them, and that a true philosopher lives by wisdom, not merely by teaching it.
Thoreau suggests that once basic needs are met, a person should turn to living more fully, instead of wanting more and more of the same comforts.
Thoreau speaks mainly to discontented people who complain about their lot when they could improve it, and warns that some people hoard possessions they cannot use.
Thoreau describes getting up early to meet each day, and says the present moment is where the past and future meet, so it is the one place we truly have to act.
Thoreau admits that much of his work of watching and listening brought no reward from others, and says that his effort was its own reward.
Thoreau tells of a basket seller who failed because he made goods without asking what buyers wanted, and says the life praised as successful is only one kind among many.
Thoreau mocks the sprawling duties of a merchant who must oversee every detail himself, and shows how a business that demands universal knowledge can wear down the person who runs it.
Thoreau argues that our love of novelty and our concern for what others think drive much of what we buy to wear, more than real usefulness does.
Thoreau points out that people worry more about being respected than about being truly respectable, and says a patch in one's clothes matters far less than a sound conscience.
Thoreau says a person who has found real work does not need new clothes for it, and that any new enterprise should begin with a new wearer rather than a new wardrobe.
Thoreau suggests that a person should live simply enough to lay hands on everything they own in the dark, so that losing possessions would cause no great anxiety.
Thoreau jokes that people are measured by their clothes instead of their character, and says that most of us worship Fashion rather than honesty.
Thoreau notes that every generation laughs at the old fashions while following the new ones religiously, and says only a sincere life gives any costume its dignity.
Thoreau doubts that the factory system clothes people well, since its real aim seems to be enriching the companies that run it, and reminds us that people only hit what they aim at.
Thoreau sees a home as one of the first human needs, and notes that people who build houses for comfort also crave warmth in their affections.
Thoreau observes that children love to play house and stay outdoors, and wonders whether we have covered ourselves so thoroughly that we rarely live under the open sky.
Thoreau warns that a house built without care can become a prison or a tomb, and urges us first to ask how slight a shelter is truly necessary.
Thoreau argues that the real cost of anything is the life we must exchange for it, so a person who spends most of their working years paying for a house may be poorer than one with a simple shelter.
Thoreau suggests that civilised life could be arranged so that we keep its advantages without paying the heavy sacrifices it often demands from us.
Thoreau notes that many farmers spend decades toiling to own land they inherited or borrowed for, and that few have truly paid for their homes, so the homestead itself can become the burden.
Thoreau says a farmer may try to solve the problem of making a living by a formula more complicated than the problem itself, and that the trap set for comfort often catches the one who set it.
Thoreau points out that civilisation has built finer houses faster than it has built finer people, and asks whether a better dwelling is earned by a life spent on mere necessities.
Thoreau notes that the comforts enjoyed by some are often paid for by the hardship of others, and that the people who build palaces may return each night to a poor hut.
Thoreau urges us to ask what a house truly is, since many people stay poor all their lives trying to match the homes of their neighbours, and suggests we might sometimes be content with less.
Thoreau laments that people have become the tools of their tools, settling down and forgetting to look up, and says the best art tries to free us from that condition.
Thoreau argues that our houses should first be lined with beauty where they meet our lives, and that beautiful living must come before beautiful ornament.
Thoreau says it is generous to borrow tools for a new venture, since it lets others share in the enterprise, and that a borrowed axe often comes back sharper.
Thoreau points out that for all our arts, sciences and appliances, we may know little more than the wind that blows, and he urges humility about what we claim to know.
Thoreau says people in almost every climate have dug into the earth for steady comfort, and that even grand houses are often little more than a porch at the entrance to a burrow.
Thoreau found that building with neighbours turned the work into an occasion for neighbourliness, and that a mind with time to spare can find real entertainment in the smallest scraps.
Thoreau argues that building a dwelling with your own hands has a fitness like a bird building its own nest, and asks where the division of labour will end and what it finally serves.
Thoreau says architectural beauty grows outward from the character of the person who lives within, and that ornament added to the surface is a poor stand-in for honest living.
Thoreau notes that the most interesting dwellings are often the humblest, because the life lived inside gives them character, while ornaments added from outside fall away like borrowed plumes.
Thoreau argues that wiser management of student life would cut the cost of education, since the comforts students pay for often cost others far more than they are worth.
Thoreau urges students to do more than study life from a safe distance, and to actually live it, since the best way to learn how to live is to try the experiment of living.
Thoreau says a boy learns more by making his own knife from ore he has dug than by attending lectures, and suggests that real education is the art of living, not only the professions.
Thoreau warns that many modern improvements are illusions, since they are improved means to an unimproved end, and that we rush to build fast connections before deciding what is worth saying.
Thoreau argues that the swiftest traveller is often the one who goes on foot, since the person who must work to pay the fare may end up working the whole journey.
Thoreau warns that a life spent earning money to enjoy a questionable freedom at the end of it is a poor trade, and that a crowd rushing for progress often leaves many people behind.
Thoreau argues that a person who lives simply, eats only what they grow and avoids trading for luxuries needs very little land, and gains independence by not being tied down to property.
Thoreau suggests that relying on animals to do our work makes us serve the animal within us and the animals around us, and that such luxury can leave the strongest in charge of everyone else.
Thoreau argues that nations try to memorialise themselves with hammered stone, yet one piece of good sense or honest manners would be more memorable than any monument.
Thoreau says the love of art behind many grand buildings is often mere vanity, and wonders who in those days was above such trifling and did not help build them.
Thoreau argues that the leisure and independence he secured were worth more to him than the modest way he chose to live, since a plain home was all he really needed.
Thoreau argues that obtaining what we truly need takes far less trouble than we think, and that people often suffer for want of luxuries rather than of necessities.
Thoreau's list of his own few belongings shows how little a person truly needs, and he remarks that the more things we own, the poorer we often are.
