The fisherman has a harmless, preoccupied look; he is a kind of vagrant, that nothing fears. He blends himself with the trees and the shadows. All his approaches are gentle and indirect. He times himself to the meandering, soliloquizing stream; he addresses himself to it as a lover to his mistress; he woos it and stays with it till he knows its hidden secrets. Where it deepens his purpose deepens; where it is shallow he is indifferent. He knows how to interpret its every glance and dimple; its beauty haunts him for days.
John BurroughsThe gift of perfume to a flower is a special grace like genius or like beauty, and never becomes common or cheap.
John BurroughsThe spirit of man can endure only so much and when it is broken only a miracle can mend it.
John Burroughs