What a psalm the storm was singing, and how fresh the smell of the washed earth and leaves, and how sweet the still small voices of the storm!
Not blind opposition to progress,but opposition to blind progress.
In God's wildness lies the hope of the world.
In every walk with nature one receives far more than he seeks.
How narrow we selfish conceited creatures are in our sympathies! How blind to the rights of all the rest of creation!
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!