I've been camping and stuff, but if you left me in the woods I'd probably just curl up and cry until someone found me.
Sentiment: NEGATIVE
I left the woods for as good a reason as I went there. Perhaps it seemed to me that I had several more lives to live and could not spare any more time for that one.
I do have a side of me that would just love to be stuck in the woods and have to stick it out and be really resourceful.
The woods are lovely, dark and deep. But I have promises to keep, and miles to go before I sleep.
I live in the woods, so really the only way you can get to me is if you send a letter.
I have gone to the forest.
I practically lived in the woods when I was a kid, avoiding grown-ups and my dysfunctional family, pretending I was half-wolf, a feral child who napped in nests made out of ferns, ate wild blueberries, and wove sticks and feathers into her hair.
Camping is something I've done all my life.
There is nothing like being left alone again, to walk peacefully with oneself in the woods. To boil one's coffee and fill one's pipe, and to think idly and slowly as one does it.
I'll cry anywhere because I can do it quite subtly. Walking, that's a good time to have a cry.
In my deepest troubles, I frequently would wrench myself from the persons around me and retire to some secluded part of our noble forests.