For each new morning with its light, For rest and shelter of the night, For health and food, for love and friends, For everything Thy goodness sends.

The tempered light of the woods is like a perpetual morning.

When there is no vision, people perish.

A painter told me that nobody could draw a tree without in some sort becoming a tree.

When a man says to me, "I have the intensest love of nature," at once I know that he has none.

Painting seems to be to the eye what dancing is to the limbs. When that has educated the frame to self-possession, to nimbleness,to grace, the steps of the dancing-master are better forgotten; so painting teaches me the splendor of color and the expression of form, and as I see many pictures and higher genius in the art, I see the boundless opulence of the pencil, the indifferency in which the artist stands free to choose out of the possible forms.

Every day brings a ship, Every ship brings a word; Well for those who have no fear, Looking seaward well assured That the word the vessel brings Is the word they wish to hear.