And how should a beautiful, ignorant stream of water know it heads for an early release - out across the read more

And how should a beautiful, ignorant stream of water know it heads for an early release - out across the desert, running toward the Gulf, below sea level, to murmur its lullaby, and see the Imperial Valley rise out of burning sand with cotton blossoms, wheat, watermelons, roses, how should it know?

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.

Nature teaches more than she preaches. There are no sermons in stones. It is easier to get a spark out read more

Nature teaches more than she preaches. There are no sermons in stones. It is easier to get a spark out of a stone than a moral.

I look upon all creatures equally; none are less dear to me and none more dear. But those who worship read more

I look upon all creatures equally; none are less dear to me and none more dear. But those who worship me with love live in me, and I come to life in them.

It was one of those perfect English autumnal days which occur more frequently in memory than in life.

It was one of those perfect English autumnal days which occur more frequently in memory than in life.

Got no check books, got no banks. Still I'd like to express my thanks - I got the sun in read more

Got no check books, got no banks. Still I'd like to express my thanks - I got the sun in the mornin' and the moon at night.

Nature does not complete things. She is chaotic. Man must finish, and he does so by making a garden and read more

Nature does not complete things. She is chaotic. Man must finish, and he does so by making a garden and building a wall.

Words, like nature, half reveal and half conceal the soul within.

Words, like nature, half reveal and half conceal the soul within.

The poetry of the earth is never dead.

The poetry of the earth is never dead.