In simple hearts the feeling for the beauty and grandeur of nature is a hundred-fold stronger and more vivid than in us, ecstatic composers of narratives in words and on paper.

A strange thing, the human heart in general, and woman's heart in particular.

We practically always excuse things when we understand them

Anyone who has chanced like me to roam through desolate mountains and studied at length their fantastic shapes and drunk the invigorating air of their valleys can understand why I wish to describe and depict these magic scenes for others.

Many a calm river begins as a turbulent waterfall, yet none hurtles and foams all the way to the sea.

Afraid of decision, I buried my finer feelings in the depths of my heart and they died there.

We almost always forgive those we understand.