William Shakespeare on wilderness:
Are not these woods
more free from peril than the envious court?
Here feel we but the penalty of Adam,
the season's difference; and the icy fang
and churlish chiding of the winter's wind,
which, when it bites and blows upon my body,
even till I shrink with cold, I smile and say
"This is no flattery, these are counsellors
that feelingly persuade me what I am."
Sweet are the uses of adversity
which like the toad, ugly and venomous,
wears yet a precious jewel in his head;
and this our life exempt from public haunt,
finds tongues in trees, books in running brooks,
sermons in stones, and good in everything.
Dad
