Thoreau said his thanksgiving was perpetual.
On December 6, 1856, in a letter to his friend Harrison Blake, Henry David Thoreau wrote in part, "I am grateful for what I am and have. My thanksgiving is perpetual. It is surprising how contented one can be with nothing definite. . . . My breath is sweet to me. O how I laugh when I think of my vague, indefinite riches. No run on my bank can drain it, for my wealth is not possession but enjoyment."
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