For I mean to roam and think and make great irons red-hot.

Were I more conversant with literature and its great names, I could go on quoting them ad infinitum and acknowledge my debt for the merit you have been generous enough to find in my work.

There is nothing like being left alone again, to walk peacefully with oneself in the woods. To boil one's coffee and fill one's pipe, and to think idly and slowly as one does it.

Se nu er jeg borte fra byens larm og
trængsel og aviser og mennesker, jeg er
flygtet fra det altsammen fordi det igjen
kaldte på mig fra landet og ensomheten
hvor jeg er fra. Du skal se det kommer
til å gå godt! Tænker jeg og har atter det
bedste håp. Ak jeg har gjort en slik flugt
før og er atter vendt tilbake til byen. Og
atter flyktet.

The writer must be able to revel and roll in the abundance of words; he must know not only the direct but also the secret power of a word. There are overtones and undertones to a word, and lateral echoes, too.

When good befalls a man he calls it Providence, when evil fate.