Consider the wheelbarrow. It may lack the grace of an airplane, the speed of an automobile, the initial capacity of a freight car, but its humble wheel marked out the path of what civilization we still have.

There are no limits to either time or distance, except as man himself may make them. I have but to touch the wind to know these things.

April is a promise that May is bound to keep.

Knowing trees, I understand the meaning of patience. Knowing grass, I can appreciate persistence.

October is the fallen leaf, but it is also a wider horizon more clearly seen.

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

Here and there one sees the blush of wild rose haws or the warmth of orange fruit on the bittersweet, and back in the woods is the occasional twinkle of partridgeberries. But they are the gem stones, the rare decorations which make the grays, the browns and the greens seem even more quiet, more completely at rest.