"It appears to be a law that you cannot have a deep sympathy with both man and nature"
About this Quote
Thoreau drops this line like a dare: pick a side. Not because he thinks humans are unworthy of care, but because he suspects the kind of “sympathy” society congratulates itself for is often just complicity in the human project - commerce, chatter, reform-by-committee, the endless social weather. Deep attention to nature, in his view, isn’t a hobby; it’s a rival allegiance. It demands time, solitude, and a willingness to be bored long enough that perception sharpens into something like devotion.
The phrasing “appears to be a law” matters. He’s not claiming divine truth; he’s performing the naturalist’s posture - observing a pattern, coolly, almost reluctantly. That restraint is the trick: it makes the provocation feel earned rather than preachy. The subtext is harsher than the sentence lets on. “Man,” singular, reads as the collective human world: politics, industry, social obligation. “Nature,” equally singular, becomes an alternative society with its own claims. To sympathize deeply with one is to risk becoming alien to the other.
Context is Thoreau’s mid-19th-century America, where “progress” meant railroads cutting through woods and moral seriousness often meant public crusades. He admired principled resistance, yet distrusted crowds. This line captures that tension: empathy for people can become a leash; empathy for nature can become a withdrawal. He’s not prescribing misanthropy so much as naming the cost of attention. If you truly let the nonhuman world matter, you may find the human world’s priorities start to look not just wrong, but strangely small.
The phrasing “appears to be a law” matters. He’s not claiming divine truth; he’s performing the naturalist’s posture - observing a pattern, coolly, almost reluctantly. That restraint is the trick: it makes the provocation feel earned rather than preachy. The subtext is harsher than the sentence lets on. “Man,” singular, reads as the collective human world: politics, industry, social obligation. “Nature,” equally singular, becomes an alternative society with its own claims. To sympathize deeply with one is to risk becoming alien to the other.
Context is Thoreau’s mid-19th-century America, where “progress” meant railroads cutting through woods and moral seriousness often meant public crusades. He admired principled resistance, yet distrusted crowds. This line captures that tension: empathy for people can become a leash; empathy for nature can become a withdrawal. He’s not prescribing misanthropy so much as naming the cost of attention. If you truly let the nonhuman world matter, you may find the human world’s priorities start to look not just wrong, but strangely small.
Quote Details
| Topic | Nature |
|---|---|
| Source | Help us find the source |
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