We measure success by accumulation. The measure is false. The true measure is appreciation. He who loves most has most.

Natural beauty and wonder are priceless heirlooms which God has bestowed upon our nation. How shall we escape the contempt of the coming generation if we suffer this irreplaceable heritage to be wasted?

Those who would see wonderful things must often be ready to travel alone.

In love and friendship, small, steady payments on a gold basis are better than immense promissory notes.

Who can explain the secret pathos of Nature's loveliness? It is a touch of melancholy inherited from our mother Eve. It is an unconscious memory of the lost Paradise. It is the sense that even if we should find another Eden, we would not be fit to enjoy it perfectly nor stay in it forever.

No amount of energy will take the place of thought. A strenuous life with its eyes shut is a kind of wild insanity.

Time is: Too slow for those who wait, too swift for those who fear.