In drying plants, botanists often dry themselves. Dry words and dry facts will not fire hearts.
A few minutes ago every tree was excited, bowing to the roaring storm, waving, swirling, tossing their branches in glorious enthusiasm like worship. But though to the outer ear these trees are now silent, their songs never cease.
Going to the mountains is going home.
Earth has no sorrow that earth can not heal.
The power of imagination makes us infinite.
The gross heathenism of civilization has generally destroyed nature, and poetry, and all that is spiritual.