Spring work is going on with joyful enthusiasm.
Going to the mountains is going home.
In this silent, serene wilderness the weary can gain a heart-bath in perfect peace.
Going to the woods is going home, for I suppose we came from the woods originally.
No synonym for God is so perfect as Beauty. Whether as seen carving the lines of the mountains with glaciers, or gathering matter into stars, or planning the movements of water, or gardening - still all is Beauty!
How narrow we selfish conceited creatures are in our sympathies! How blind to the rights of all the rest of creation!