I wonder if leaves feel lonely when they see their neighbors falling?

A lifetime is so little a time that we die before we get ready to live. I should like to study at a college, but then I have to say to myself: "You will die before you can do anything else".

I have a low opinion of books; they are but piles of stones set up to show coming travelers where other minds have been, or at best signal smokes to call attention. No amount of word-making will ever make a single soul to know these mountains. As well seek to warm the naked and frostbitten by lectures on caloric and pictures of flame. One day's exposure to mountains is better than cartloads of books.

Yet how hard most people work for mere dust and ashes and care, taking no thought of growing in knowledge and grace, never having time to get in sight of their own ignorance.

God has to nearly kill us sometimes, to teach us lessons.

In drying plants, botanists often dry themselves. Dry words and dry facts will not fire hearts.

In every walk with nature one receives far more than he seeks.