I never knew how soothing trees are-many trees and patches of open sunlight, and tree presences; it is almost like having another being.

A man has no religion who has not slowly and painfully gathered one together, adding to it, shaping it; and one's religion is never complete and final, it seems, but must always be undergoing modification.

In masturbation there is nothing but loss.

Money is our madness, our vast collective madness.

There is nothing to save, now all is lost, but a tiny core of stillness in the heart like the eye of a violet.

Not that the Red Indian will ever possess the broad lands of America. At least I presume not. But his ghost will.

Towns oftener swamp one than carry one out onto the big ocean of life.