... No one can dream what a charm
there is in taking care of pets, singing birds, plants, etc., with
such advantages of solitude; how every leaf and bud and flower is
pored over, and admired, and loved! A whole conservatory, flushed with
azaleas and brilliant with forests of camellias and every precious
exotic that blooms, could not impart so much delight as I have known a
single rose to give, unfolding in the bleak bitterness of a day in
February, when this side of the planet seemed to have arrived at its
culmination of hopelessness, with the Isles of Shoals the most
hopeless spot upon its surface. One gets close to the heart of these
things; they are almost as precious as Picciola to the prisoner, and
yield a fresh and constant joy such as the pleasure-seeking
inhabitants of cities could not find in their whole round of shifting
diversions. With a bright and cheerful interior, open fires, books and
pictures, windows full of thrifty blossoming plants and climbing
vines, a family of singing birds, plenty of work, and a clear head and
quiet conscience, it would go hard if one could not be happy even in
such loneliness. Books, of course, are inestimable. Nowhere does one
follow a play of Shakespeare's with greater zest, for it brings the
whole world, which you need, about you; doubly precious the deep
thoughts which wise men have given to help us, doubly sweet the songs
of all the poets; for nothing comes between to distract you.
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