Stillness

Sometimes, on a summer morning, having taken my accustomed bath, I sat in my sunny doorway from sunrise till noon, rapt in revery, amidst the pines and hickories and sumacs, in undisturbed solitude and stillness, while the birds sang around or flitted noiseless through the house...I grew in those seasons like corn in the night, and they were far better than any work of the hands would have been.

--Henry David Thoreau