Fruit—which often appears as a metaphor for the good things in life—becomes a recurring motif in Walden. It first appears in "Economy" as a metaphor for the finest, simplest, and least materialistic experiences in life:
Most men, even in this comparatively free country, through mere ignorance and mistake, are so occupied with the factitious cares and superfluously coarse labors of life that its finer fruits cannot be plucked by them. Their fingers, from excessive toil, are too clumsy and tremble too much for that.
Here, Thoreau laments that most men become so occupied with "factitious cares" and "superfluously coarse labors of life" that they remain ignorant of its "finer fruits." They work meaningless jobs in pursuit of meaningless items—homes, technology, transportation—and have no energy left to pursue spiritual fulfillment. Thoreau embarked upon his experiment at Walden to solve this very problem; he wanted to prove that the best "fruits" of life could be plucked after people removed all the unnecessary aspects of their lives.
In the book's final chapters, the significance of the fruit metaphors begins to crystallize. Thoreau specifies that "the finer things in life" include the brain, the intellect, the ability to coexist peacefully in nature and divest oneself of material concerns, and the development of one's understanding of the natural world. Fruit-bearing plants become a metaphor for people who become rich but avoid superfluity, and fruit itself also serves as a metaphor for the brain of the old man—"one of the last philosophers"—who comes to visit Thoreau. By incorporating a range of different interpretations of metaphorical fruits, Thoreau establishes the importance of the intellect and makes the human mind seem more a part of the natural world than the modern technological world.
Railroads—a key motif in Walden—appear in one of its most famous passages in "Where I Lived, and What I Lived For":
If we do not get out sleepers, and forge rails, and devote days and nights to the work, but go to tinkering upon our lives to improve them, who will build railroads? And if railroads are not built, how shall we get to heaven in season? But if we stay at home and mind our business, who will want railroads? We do not ride on the railroad; it rides upon us. Did you ever think what those sleepers are that underlie the railroad? Each one is a man, an Irishman, or a Yankee man. The rails are laid on them, and they are covered with sand, and the cars run smoothly over them. They are sound sleepers, I assure you.
In this passage, Thoreau argues that the railroad "rides upon us," which means that the very infrastructure humans depend on actually degrades our existence. There is also a play on words in this quote—"sleepers" in the first instance refers to the wood used to build tracks (railroad ties), whereas the sleepers that "underlie" the railroad might be referring to deceased and buried humans. Furthermore, many of Thoreau's questions in this passage begin with "if" because he wants to present hypothetical questions that evolve from the premise of independent minimalism. He asks, if everyone creates a self-sufficient homestead, who would ever need a railroad? Here, the motif of railroads reminds the reader of the counterintuitive nature of urban conveniences. They only seem to make life better, but in reality, they exist as a part of a system filled with superfluous elements that, in Thoreau's opinion, block people from true and meaningful connection with nature.
This motif also appears in "Economy":
Our inventions are wont to be pretty toys, which distract our attention from serious things. They are but improved means to an unimproved end, an end which it was already but too easy to arrive at; as railroads lead to Boston or New York. We are in great haste to construct a magnetic telegraph from Maine to Texas; but Maine and Texas, it may be, have nothing important to communicate.
Railroads are one of many "pretty toys" that connect one side of the country to the other, but Thoreau wonders: to what end? What is the point of improving travel across the world when people cannot even improve their own lives at home? In sum, railroads comprise one of the most important motifs in Walden, because they represent the ills of urban life in contrast to the beautiful simplicity of life by the pond. Thoreau admires the labor that goes into building such vast infrastructure, but he believes it would be better spent on individuals' self-reliance and self-improvement.
Renewal becomes a recurring motif in Walden that conveys the author's hope for the evolution of humanity. For instance, in "Where I Lived, and What I Lived For," Thoreau writes:
Every morning was a cheerful invitation to make my life of equal simplicity, and I may say innocence, with Nature herself. [...]They say that characters were engraven on the bathing tub of king Tching-thang to this effect: “Renew thyself completely each day; do it again, and again, and forever again.” I can understand that. Morning brings back the heroic ages [...] There was something cosmical about it; a standing advertisement, till forbidden, of the everlasting vigor and fertility of the world. The morning, which is the most memorable season of the day, is the awakening hour.
Many phrases in this passage evoke renewal, especially the command to "renew thyself completely each day." In other words, personal evolution does not just happen; it must be striven for. The author firmly believes in the "everlasting vigor and fertility of the world," but he also insists that people have great agency to change their habits and beliefs. They not only must have a positive view of nature, but they also must engage spiritually with it. The continuous renewal of the human spirit subtly mirrors the cycle of the seasons, by which nature renews the earth each year.
The motif of renewal also manifests in the book's structure because it begins and ends in the spring. Thoreau experiences a brief moment of anxiety and discomfort in winter; he must also navigate the challenges of farming and provide for himself in every kind of weather. Thus the seasons reflect his changing emotions, which he describes in order to connect human feelings with natural phenomena. In the end, spring returns, which gives the book a circular structure and confirms the inevitability of renewal in nature.
Most importantly, this motif is significant because the whole book aims to encourage readers to begin a new way of life. Thoreau emphasizes spiritual—not material— renewal. He advocates for people to find growth within their own minds and communities rather than reaching for distractions via technology. In order to renew one's spirit, one must change one's physical environment— hence Thoreau's drastic lifestyle change. He lives by himself, farms his own food, and spends hours observing the natural world around him. The extremity of his experiment shows his commitment to personal renewal, but also to discovering to what extent renewal is possible for the rest of humanity.
Railroads—a key motif in Walden—appear in one of its most famous passages in "Where I Lived, and What I Lived For":
If we do not get out sleepers, and forge rails, and devote days and nights to the work, but go to tinkering upon our lives to improve them, who will build railroads? And if railroads are not built, how shall we get to heaven in season? But if we stay at home and mind our business, who will want railroads? We do not ride on the railroad; it rides upon us. Did you ever think what those sleepers are that underlie the railroad? Each one is a man, an Irishman, or a Yankee man. The rails are laid on them, and they are covered with sand, and the cars run smoothly over them. They are sound sleepers, I assure you.
In this passage, Thoreau argues that the railroad "rides upon us," which means that the very infrastructure humans depend on actually degrades our existence. There is also a play on words in this quote—"sleepers" in the first instance refers to the wood used to build tracks (railroad ties), whereas the sleepers that "underlie" the railroad might be referring to deceased and buried humans. Furthermore, many of Thoreau's questions in this passage begin with "if" because he wants to present hypothetical questions that evolve from the premise of independent minimalism. He asks, if everyone creates a self-sufficient homestead, who would ever need a railroad? Here, the motif of railroads reminds the reader of the counterintuitive nature of urban conveniences. They only seem to make life better, but in reality, they exist as a part of a system filled with superfluous elements that, in Thoreau's opinion, block people from true and meaningful connection with nature.
This motif also appears in "Economy":
Our inventions are wont to be pretty toys, which distract our attention from serious things. They are but improved means to an unimproved end, an end which it was already but too easy to arrive at; as railroads lead to Boston or New York. We are in great haste to construct a magnetic telegraph from Maine to Texas; but Maine and Texas, it may be, have nothing important to communicate.
Railroads are one of many "pretty toys" that connect one side of the country to the other, but Thoreau wonders: to what end? What is the point of improving travel across the world when people cannot even improve their own lives at home? In sum, railroads comprise one of the most important motifs in Walden, because they represent the ills of urban life in contrast to the beautiful simplicity of life by the pond. Thoreau admires the labor that goes into building such vast infrastructure, but he believes it would be better spent on individuals' self-reliance and self-improvement.
The motif of imaginary people in the final chapters of Walden conveys the author's deep sense of solitude. In "Former Inhabitants; and Winter Visitors," Thoreau describes the former inhabitants of Concord, Massachusetts:
For human society I was obliged to conjure up the former occupants of these woods. Within the memory of many of my townsmen the road near which my house stands resounded with the laugh and gossip of inhabitants, and the woods which border it were notched and dotted here and there with their little gardens and dwellings, though it was then much more shut in by the forest than now. In some places, within my own remembrance, the pines would scrape both sides of a chaise at once, and women and children who were compelled to go this way to Lincoln alone and on foot did it with fear, and often ran a good part of the distance.
Here, Thoreau feels "obliged to conjure up" memories of the original peoples of Concord. He also relies on the memories of his fellow townsmen (who live in closer proximity to society). As he imagines the sounds of "laughter and gossip" among nearby people, he goes into great detail about the pines that "scrape both sides of a chaise at once"—which suggests he has a lot of time on his hands to ponder the past and present. He often compares himself to the inhabitants of Walden Pond— both real and imaginary—which reveals how often he thinks about other people, and sometimes hints at his tendency to self-aggrandize. He sees himself as a man on a mission, and he wants to know how he fits into the history of the pond.
In "The Ponds" he likewise imagines a more recent group of people who had "left some trace of their footsteps." He is "surprised to detect" a shelf-like path that encircles the pond that he posits is "as old probably as the race of man here" and "worn by the feet of aboriginal hunters." It is also "unwittingly trodden" by present occupants such as himself. This moment creates continuity between past and present and makes Thoreau feel like an integral part of the pond's history. Throughout Walden, this motif of imagining people not only reveals the author's deep sense of solitude but also his belief that he stands among the imagined inhabitants as an essential part of Walden's history.
