Man is a blind, witless, low brow, anthropocentric clod who inflicts lesions upon the earth.

Man is a blind, witless, low brow, anthropocentric clod who inflicts lesions upon the earth.

In search of my mother's garden, I found my own.

In search of my mother's garden, I found my own.

That man's best works should be such bungling imitations of Nature's infinite perfection, matters not much; but that he should read more

That man's best works should be such bungling imitations of Nature's infinite perfection, matters not much; but that he should make himself an imitation, this is the fact which Nature moans over, and deprecates beseechingly. Be spontaneous, be truthful, be free, and thus be individuals! is the song she sings through warbling birds, and whispering pines, and roaring waves, and screeching winds.

Winter is nature's way of saying, "Up yours.".

Winter is nature's way of saying, "Up yours.".

I trust in Nature for the stable laws
Of beauty and utility. Spring shall plant
And Autumn read more

I trust in Nature for the stable laws
Of beauty and utility. Spring shall plant
And Autumn garner to the end of time.
I trust in God--the right shall be the right
And other than the wrong, while he endures;
I trust in my own soul, that can perceive
The outward and the inward, Nature's good
And God's.

Rich with the spoils of nature.

Rich with the spoils of nature.

Nothing is more beautiful than the loveliness of the woods before sunrise.

Nothing is more beautiful than the loveliness of the woods before sunrise.

As for evolution, I have a hard time believing that billions of years ago two protozoan bumped into each other read more

As for evolution, I have a hard time believing that billions of years ago two protozoan bumped into each other under a volcanic cesspool and evolved into Cindy Crawford.

Birds sing after a storm; why shouldn't people feel as free to delight in whatever remains to them?

Birds sing after a storm; why shouldn't people feel as free to delight in whatever remains to them?