All that a man has to say or do that can possibly concern mankind, is in some shape or other to tell the story of his love,—to sing; and, if he is fortunate and keeps alive, he will be forever in love. This alone is to be alive to the extremities. It is a pity that this divine creature should ever suffer from cold feet; a still greater pity that the coldness so often reaches to his heart. I look over the report of the doings of a scientific association and am surprised that there is so little life to be reported; I am put off with a parcel of dry technical terms. Anything living is easily and naturally expressed in popular language. I cannot help suspecting that the life of these learned professors has been almost as inhuman and wooden as a rain-gauge or self-registering magnetic machine. They communicate no fact which rises to the temperature of blood-heat. It doesn’t amount to one rhyme.
Thoreau's Journal, 6 May 1854

A few things about Henry David Thoreau
While collecting a shoe at the cobblers he was arrested and jailed for refusing to pay taxes. When asked at dinner which dish he preferred he said 'the nearest'. While living in his cabin at Walden he taught a mouse to come to the sound of his flute. Emerson said of him: 'I love Henry, but I cannot like him; and as for taking his arm, I should as soon think of taking the arm of an elm-tree.'