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.

When I first caught sight of (Mount Shasta) over the braided folds of the Sacramento Valley I was fifty miles away and afoot, alone and weary. Yet all my blood turned to wine, and I have not been weary since.

Going to the woods is going home, for I suppose we came from the woods originally.

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

Most people are on the world, not in it-- having no conscious sympathy or relationship to anything about them-- undiffused seporate, and rigidly alone like marbles of polished stone, touching but seporate.

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

No synonym for God is so perfect as Beauty.