The Indian's intercourse with Nature is at least such as admits of the greatest independence of each.

It is a thorough process, this war with the wilderness - breaking nature, taming the soil. feeding it on oats. The civilized man regards the pine tree as his enemy. He will fell it and let in the light, grub it up and raise wheat or rye there. It is no better than a fungus to him.

I see less difference between a city and a swamp than formerly.

You can hardly convince a man of an error in a lifetime, but must content yourself with the reflection that the progress of science is slow. If he is not convinced, his grandchildren may be.

The constant abrasion and decay of our lives makes the soil of our future growth.

There is but one stage for the peasant and the actor.

I come to my solitary woodland walk as the homesick go home. I thus dispose of the superfluous and see things as they are, grand and beautiful.