When one tugs at a single thing in nature, he finds it attached to the rest of the world.
I wonder if leaves feel lonely when they see their neighbors falling?
Writing is like the life of a glacier; one eternal grind.
Nature had gathered her choicest treasures , to draw her lovers into close and confiding communion with her
When we try to pick out anything by itself, we find it hitched to everything else in the universe.
The last days of this glacial winter are not yet past; we live in 'creation's dawn.' The morning stars still sing together, and the world, though made, is still being made and becoming more beautiful every day.