The gross heathenism of civilization has generally destroyed nature, and poetry, and all that is spiritual.
Writing is like the life of a glacier; one eternal grind.
Climb the mountains and get their good tidings.
God cannot save them from fools.
What is worthwhile in life? I think it is worth living and dreaming. If you don't you may be dead anyhow - inside.
I never saw a discontented tree. They grip the ground as though they liked it, and though fast rooted they travel about as far as we do.