It might be truly said that now I worked for my bread; ’tis a little wonderful, and what I believe few people have thought much upon, viz., the strange multitude of little things necessary in the providing, producing, curing, dressing, making, and finishing this one article of bread. I, that was reduced to a mere state of nature, found this to my daily discouragement and was made more and more sensible of it every hour,
So i suppose bits like this might be some small virtue that makes this book "worth reading today," as an opportunity to reflect on solitude vs society.
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