Man is wise and constantly in quest of more wisdom; but the ultimate wisdom, which deals with beginnings, remains locked in a seed.

Nature seems to look after her own only up to a certain point; beyond that they are supposed to fend for themselves.

Summer is a promissory note signed in June, its long days spent and gone before you know it, and due to be repaid next January.

He who travels west travels not only with the sun but with history.

Some people are like ants. Give them a warm day and a piece of ground and they start digging. There the similarity ends. Ants keepon digging. Most people don't. They establish contact with the soil, absorb so much vernal vigor that they can't stay in one place, and desert the fork or spade to see how the rhubarb is coming and whether the asparagus is yet in sight.

Time after time ... today's crisis shrinks to next week's footnote to a newly headline disaster.

The earth turns, and the seasons, and for all his pride and power man cannot temper the winds or change their course. They are the unseen tides that shape our days and our years.