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How strange that nature does not knock, and yet does not intrude!
How strange that nature does not knock, and yet does not intrude!
Whenever the pressure of our complex city life thins my blood and numbs my brain, I seek relief in the read more
Whenever the pressure of our complex city life thins my blood and numbs my brain, I seek relief in the trail; and when I hear the coyote wailing to the yellow dawn, my cares fall from me - I am happy.
We need to find God, and he cannot be found in noise and restlessness. God is the friend of silence. read more
We need to find God, and he cannot be found in noise and restlessness. God is the friend of silence. See how nature - trees, flowers, grass- grows in silence; see the stars, the moon and the sun, how they move in silence... We need silence to be able to touch souls.
To sit in the shade on a fine day and look upon verdure is the most perfect refreshment.
To sit in the shade on a fine day and look upon verdure is the most perfect refreshment.
I frequently tramped eight or ten miles through the deepest snow to keep an appointment with a beech-tree, or a read more
I frequently tramped eight or ten miles through the deepest snow to keep an appointment with a beech-tree, or a yellow birch, or an old acquaintance among the pines.
External nature is only internal nature writ large.
External nature is only internal nature writ large.
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.
To pay homage to beauty is to admire Nature; to admire Nature is to worship God
To pay homage to beauty is to admire Nature; to admire Nature is to worship God
To be interested in the changing seasons is a happier state of mind than to be hopelessly in love with read more
To be interested in the changing seasons is a happier state of mind than to be hopelessly in love with spring.
