There is nothing in nature that can't be taken as a sign of both mortality and invigoration.

Gary Snyder's The Practice of the Wild is an exquisite, far-sighted articulation of what freedom, wildness, goodness, and grace mean, using the lessons of the planet to teach us how to live.

Honesty is stronger medicine than sympathy, which may console but often conceals.

There is nothing in nature that can't be taken as a sign of both mortality and invigoration.

We are often like rivers: careless and forceful, timid and dangerous, lucid and muddied, eddying, gleaming, still. Lovers, farmers, and artists have one thing in common, at least - a fear of 'dry spells,' dormant periods in which we do no blooming, internal droughts only the waters of imagination and psychic release can civilize.

To trace the history of a river . . . is to trace the history of the soul, the history of the mind descending and arising in the body.

The fog lifted in the evening and a blue-black band at the horizon marked the end of the sea and the beginning of thought. Where does a beginning begin when nothing has gone on before?