If man can take care of man, nature can take care of the rest.

Change is a measure of time and, in the autumn, time seems speeded up. What was is not and never again will be; what is is change.

It is not races but individuals that are noble and courageous or ignoble and craven or considerate or persistent or philosophical or reasonable. The race gets credit when the percentage of noble individuals is high.

How strangely inaccurate it is to measure length of living by length of life! The space between your birth and death is often far from a true measure of your days of living.

Better a thousand times even a swiftly fading, ephemeral moment of life than the epoch-long unconsciousness of the stone.

Freedom from worries and surcease from strain are illusions that always inhabit the distance.

For man, autumn is a time of harvest, of gathering together. For nature, it is a time of sowing, of scattering abroad.