Art is man's nature: Nature is God's art.

Art is man's nature: Nature is God's art.

To him who in the love of Nature holds
Communion with her visible forms, she speaks
A read more

To him who in the love of Nature holds
Communion with her visible forms, she speaks
A various language.

Occurrences in this domain are beyond the reach of exact prediction because of the variety of factors in operation, not read more

Occurrences in this domain are beyond the reach of exact prediction because of the variety of factors in operation, not because of any lack of order in nature.

We do not inherit this land from our ancestors; we borrow it from our children.

We do not inherit this land from our ancestors; we borrow it from our children.

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.

There are mystically in our faces certain characters which carry in them the motto of our souls, wherin he that read more

There are mystically in our faces certain characters which carry in them the motto of our souls, wherin he that cannot read A, B, C may read our natures.

You can live for years next door to a big pine tree, honored to have so venerable a neighbor, even read more

You can live for years next door to a big pine tree, honored to have so venerable a neighbor, even when it sheds needles all over your flowers or wakes you, dropping big cones onto your deck at still of night.

In the depth of winter I finally learned that there was in me an invincible summer.

In the depth of winter I finally learned that there was in me an invincible summer.

Poetry is a rich, full-bodied whistle, cracked ice crunching in pails, the night that numbs the leaf, the duel of read more

Poetry is a rich, full-bodied whistle, cracked ice crunching in pails, the night that numbs the leaf, the duel of two nightingales, the sweet pea that has run wild, Creation's tears in shoulder blades.