The axe and saw are insanely busy, chips are flying thick as snowflakes, and every summer thousands of acres of priceless forests, with their underbrush, soil, springs, climate, scenery, and religion, are vanishing away in clouds of smoke, while, except in the national parks, not one forest guard is employed.

Lie down among the pines for a while, then get to plain pure white love-work ... to help humanity and other mortals and the Lord.

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

When one tugs at a single thing in nature, he finds it attached to the rest of the world.

No synonym for God is so perfect as Beauty.

A little pure wildness is the one great present want, both of men and sheep.

Writing is like the life of a glacier; one eternal grind.