Metaphysics may be, after all, only the art of being sure of something that is not so and logic only the art of going wrong with confidence.

Nature, in her blind thirst for life has filled every possible cranny of the rotting earth with some sort of fantastic creature.

Not to have known - as most men have not - either the mountain or the desert is not to have known one's self. Not to have known one's self is to have known no one.

Long before I ever saw the desert I was aware of the mystical overtones which the observation of nature made audible to me. But I have never been more frequently or more vividly aware of them than in connection with the desert phenomena.

In our hearts those of us who know anything worth knowing know that in March a new year begins, and if we plan any new leaves, it will be when the rest of Nature is planning them too.

August creates as she slumbers, replete and satisfied.

To have passed through life and never experienced solitude is to have never known oneself. To have never known oneself is to have never known anyone.