社交往往是很廉价的，我们相聚的时间是如此短暂，以至于来不及让彼此获得新的长处。我们在一日三餐的时间里见面。大家重新相互品尝我们这些陈腐乳酪的味道。我们必须一致同意若干条礼节习俗，这些是我们所谓的礼尚往来，能够使大家相安无事地相处，避免有失风度的争吵。我们在邮局碰面，在各种社交场合碰面，在每晚的火炉边碰面，我们的生活太拥挤，相互干扰，彼此牵扯到一起，因此我认为，我们之间已经太缺乏相互尊重了。当然，也有重要而热忱的聚会，次数少一点也就足够了。想想工厂中的女工们，生活中永远不会有自己独立的空间，甚至连做梦都不会是一个人。如果一个人能住上一平方英里，就像我住的地方一样，那情况就会好得多。人们交往的价值不在于有肌肤之亲，所以我们没有必要整日地待在一起。
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我的房里有我很多伴儿，特别是早上没有人来访的时候。让我举例说明吧——也许用这种方式更能清楚地表达我的状况。我并不比湖中纵声高叫的潜水鸟更寂寞，也不比瓦尔登湖本身更寂寞。我倒是想获知有谁与这孤独的湖做伴？在它湛蓝的水波上，存在的不是蓝色的魔鬼，而是蓝色的天使。太阳是孤独的，除非天上布满了乌云，有时候看上去像有两个太阳，但其中一个是假的。上帝是孤独的，——但是魔鬼就决不会孤独，他看到许多同伙，他要拉帮结派。我并不比一朵毛蕊花或牧场上的一朵蒲公英更孤独，我不比一片豆叶、一枝酢浆草，或一只马蝇、一只大黄蜂更孤独。还有密尔溪、风信鸡、北极星或者南风，四月的暴雨、一月的冰雪消融，或者新屋里的第一只蜘蛛——所有这一切的一切，我都不比它们更孤独、更寂寞！
This is a delicious evening， when the whole body is one sense， and imbibes delight through every pore. I go and come with a strange liberty in Nature， a part of herself. As I walk along the stony shore of the pond in my shirt-sleeves， though it is cool as well as cloudy and windy， and I see nothing special to attract me， all the elements are unusually congenial to me. The bullfrogs trump to usher in the night， and the note of the whippoorwill is borne on the rippling wind from over the water. Sympathy with the fluttering alder and poplar leaves almost takes away my breath； yet， like the lake， my serenity is rippled but not ruffled. These small waves raised by the evening wind are as remote from storm as the smooth reflecting surface. Though it is now dark， the wind still blows and roars in the wood， the waves still dash， and some creatures lull the rest with their notes. The repose is never complete. The wildest animals do not repose， but seek their prey now； the fox， and skunk， and rabbit， now roam the fields and woods without fear. They are Nature’s watchmen—links which connect the days of animated life.
When I return to my house I find that visitors have been there and left their cards， either a bunch of flowers， or a wreath of evergreen， or a name in pencil on a yellow walnut leaf or a chip. They who come rarely to the woods take some little piece of the forest into their hands to play with by the way， which they leave， either intentionally or accidentally. One has peeled a willow wand， woven it into a ring， and dropped it on my table. I could always tell if visitors had called in my absence， either by the bended twigs or grass， or the print of their shoes， and generally of what sex or age or quality they were by some slight trace left， as a flower dropped， or a bunch of grass plucked and thrown away， even as far off as the railroad， half a mile distant， or by the lingering odor of a cigar or pipe. Nay， I was frequently notified of the passage of a traveller along the highway sixty rods off by the scent of his pipe.
