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Spiritual Homeland Part II

Back in my spiritual homeland, not once but twice this summer, I dipped my bucket into the sweet well of Thoreau’s Walden and drank deeply.  A picture is worth a thousand words, even of the esteemed Henry David.

I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived.


4 thoughts on “Spiritual Homeland Part II

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