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.

Hidden in the glorious wildness like unmined gold.

Climb the mountains and get their good tidings.

It is always interesting to see people in dead earnest, from whatever cause, and earthquakes make everybody earnest.

Heaven knows that John the Baptist was not more eager to get all his fellow sinners into the Jordan than I to baptize all of mine in the beauty of God's mountains.

Who wouldn't be a mountaineer! Up here all the world's prizes seem nothing

I will follow my instincts, be myself for good or ill, and see what will be the upshot.