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.

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.

You can't be suspicious of a tree, or accuse a bird or a squirrel of subversion or challenge the ideology read more

You can't be suspicious of a tree, or accuse a bird or a squirrel of subversion or challenge the ideology of a violet.

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.

We may brave human laws, but we cannot resist natural ones.

We may brave human laws, but we cannot resist natural ones.

Forests, lakes, and rivers, clouds and winds, stars and flowers, stupendous glaciers and crystal snowflakes - every form of animate read more

Forests, lakes, and rivers, clouds and winds, stars and flowers, stupendous glaciers and crystal snowflakes - every form of animate or inanimate existence, leaves its impress upon the soul of man.

One of the most tragic things I know about human nature is that all of us tend to put off read more

One of the most tragic things I know about human nature is that all of us tend to put off living. We are all dreaming of some magical rose garden over the horizon instead of enjoying the roses that are blooming outside our windows today.

A few minutes ago every tree was excited, bowing to the roaring storm, waving, swirling, tossing their branches in glorious read more

A few minutes ago every tree was excited, bowing to the roaring storm, waving, swirling, tossing their branches in glorious enthusiasm like worship. But though to the outer ear these trees are now silent, their songs never cease.

The grand show is eternal. It is always sunrise somewhere; the dew is never dried all at once; a shower read more

The grand show is eternal. It is always sunrise somewhere; the dew is never dried all at once; a shower is forever falling; vapor is ever rising. Eternal sunrise, eternal dawn and gloaming, on sea and continents and islands, each in its turn, as the round earth rolls.