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.

Going to the mountains is going home.

One day's exposure to mountains is better than a cartload of books.

God has cared for these trees, saved them from drought, disease, avalanches, and a thousand tempests and floods. But he cannot save them from fools.

All the world was before me and every day was a holiday, so it did not seem important to which one of the world's wildernesses I first should wander.

There is that in the glance of a flower which may at times control the greatest of creation's braggart lords.

How glorious a greeting the sun gives the mountains!