The Cardinal ... It was as if a pulsing heart of flame passed by when he came winging through the orchard.

Nature can be trusted to work her own miracle in the heart of any man whose daily task keeps him alone among her sights, sounds and silences.

In the economy of nature nothing is ever lost. I cannot belive that the soul of man shall prove the one exception

the occasional cries of a lost loon, strayed from its flock in northern migration, fill the swamp with sounds of wailing.

To my way of thinking and working, the greatest service a piece of fiction can do any reader is to force him to lay it down with a higher ideal of life than he had when he took it up.

we know by the odour that occasionally we are visited by skunks, which are not poetic but very beautiful.

Now what is a guest? A thing of a day! A person who disturbs your routine and interferes with important concerns. Why should any one be grateful for company? Why should time and money be lavished on visitors? They come. You overwork yourself. They go. You are glad of it. You return the visit, because it's the only way to have back at them.