Handle a book as a bee does a flower, extract its sweetness but do not damage it.
I never saw a discontented tree. They grip the ground as though they liked it, and though fast rooted they travel about as far as we do.
I wonder if leaves feel lonely when they see their neighbors falling?
Nature had gathered her choicest treasures , to draw her lovers into close and confiding communion with her
Going to the woods is going home, for I suppose we came from the woods originally.
In this silent, serene wilderness the weary can gain a heart-bath in perfect peace.