It is now many years that men have resorted to the forest for fuel and the materials of the arts: the New Englander and the New Hollander, the Parisian and the Celt, the farmer and Robin Hood, Goody Blake and Harry Gill; in most parts of the world, the prince and the peasant, the scholar and the savage, equally require still a few sticks from the forest to warm them and cook their food. Neither could I do without them.

Men nowhere, east or west, live yet a natural life, round which the vine clings, and which the elm willingly shadows. Man would desecrate it by his touch, and so the beauty of the world remains veiled to him. He needs not only to be spiritualized, but naturalized, on the soil of earth.

We only need to be as true to others as we are to ourselves, that there may be grounds enough for friendship.

Roads are made for horses and men of business. I do not travel in them much.

The bluebird carries the sky on his back.

There is no treatment for adore, but to love far more.

You never gain something but that you lose something.