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This highly enjoyable comment reminds me of the pleasure of reading Walden (by Henry David Thoreau)


Except Walden was either satire or hypocrisy. Thoreau was rich through inheritance. Emerson lent him the cabin and land. It was only a 20-minute walk from his mother’s house, where he went for dinner every night.


None of that has any bearing on my enjoyment of the book.


How dare he live so close to home, what a fraud.




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