We live together, we act on, and react to, one another; but always and in all circumstances we are by ourselves.
The Doors of Perception
Aldous Huxley (26th July 1894 – 22nd November 1963)
I have heard it said that you may live in the mountains or in the desert but if you ever want to be truly alone, live in a city
This day dame Nature seem’d in love:
The lusty sap began to move;
Fresh juice did stir th’ imbracing Vines,
And birds had drawn their valentines,
The jealous Trout, that low did lie,
Rose at a well-dissembled flie;
There stood my friend with patient skill,
Attending of his trembling quill.
Already were the eaves possest
With the swift Pilgrims dawbed nest:
The Groves already did rejoyce,
In Philomels triumphing voice:
The showers were short, the weather mild,
The morning fresh, the evening smil’d.
Jone takes her neat-rub’d pail, and now
She trips to milk the sand-red Cow;
Where, for some sturdy foot-ball Swain,
Jone strokes a sillibub or twain.
The fields and gardens were beset
With Tulips, Crocus, Violet,
And now, though late, the modest Rose
Did more than half a blush disclose.
Thus all looks gay, and full of cheer,
To welcome the new-livery’d year.
(Sir Henry Wooton)
Taken from The Compleat Angler by Izaak Walton
Mr Kennedy's Commonplace Book 