God has to nearly kill us sometimes, to teach us lessons.

When we try to pick out anything by itself, we find it hitched to everything else in the universe.

One learns that the world, though made, is yet being made; that this is still the morning of creation; that mountains long conceived are now being born, channels traced for coming rivers, basins hollowed for lakes.

The clearest way into the Universe is through a forest wilderness.

Most people are on the world, not in it-- having no conscious sympathy or relationship to anything about them-- undiffused seporate, and rigidly alone like marbles of polished stone, touching but seporate.

Spring work is going on with joyful enthusiasm.

How narrow we selfish conceited creatures are in our sympathies! How blind to the rights of all the rest of creation!