The morning wind forever blows, the poem of creation is uninterrupted; but few are the ears to hear it.

My enemies are worms, cool days, and most of all woodchucks.

We never exchange more than three words with a Friend in our lives on that level to which our thoughts and feelings almost habitually rise.

In solitude especialy do we begin to appreciate the advantage of living with someone who can think.

What have I to do with plows? I cut another furrow than you see.

Do not be too moral. You may cheat yourself out of much life so. Aim above morality. Be not simply good; be good for something.

Even Nature is observed to have her playful moods or aspects, of which man sometimes seems to be the sport.