A man who never sees a bluebird only half lives.

All things seem possible in May.

For observing nature, the best pace is a snail's pace.

Noise is evolving not only the endurers of noise but the needers of noise.

The difference between utility and utility plus beauty is the difference between telephone wires and the spider web.

The city man, in his neon-and-mazda glare, knows nothing of nature's midnight. His electric lamps surround him with synthetic sunshine. They push back the dark. They defend him from the realities of the age-old night.

I see, when I bend close, how each leaflet of a climbing rose is bordered with frost, the autumn counterpart of the dewdrops of summer dawns. The feathery leaves of yarrow are thick with silver rime and dry thistle heads rise like goblets plated with silver catching the sun.