All change is a miracle to contemplate, but it is a miracle which is taking place every instant.

It is the stars as not yet known to science that I would know, the stars which the lonely traveler knows.

We discover a new world every time we see the earth again after it has been covered for a season with snow.

Those whom we can love, we can hate; to others we are indifferent.

We are more anxious to speak than to be heard.

Truths and roses have thorns about them.

The poet's, commonly, is not a logger's path, but a woodman's. The logger and pioneer have preceded him, like John the Baptist; eaten the wild honey, it may be, but the locusts also; banished decaying wood and the spongy mosses which feed on it, and built hearths and humanized Nature for him.