Nature goes her own way, and all that to us seems an exception is really according to order.
Nature has her language, and she is not unveracious; but we don't know all the intricacies of her syntax just yet, and in a hasty reading we may happen to extract the very opposite of her real meaning.
Every walk to the woods is a religious rite, every bath in the stream is a saving ordinance. Communion service is at all hours, and the bread and wine are from the heart and marrow of Mother Earth.
Though we travel the world over to find the beautiful, we must carry it with us or we find it not.
The wide world is all about you: you can fence yourselves in, but you cannot for ever fence it out.
Marry an outdoors woman. Then if you throw her out into the yard on a cold night, she can still survive.
What is the use of a house if you haven't got a tolerable planet to put it on?
Were I called on to define, very briefly, the term Art, I should call it 'the reproduction of what the Senses perceive in Nature through the veil of the soul.' The mere imitation, however accurate, of what is in Nature, entitles no man to the sacred name of 'Artist.'
In summer, the song sings itself.
The use of sea and air is common to all; neither can a title to the ocean belong to any people or private persons, forasmuch as neither nature nor public use and custom permit any possession therof.
Rain! whose soft architectural hands have power to cut stones, and chisel to shapes of grandeur the very mountains.
If people think nature is their friend, then they sure don't need an enemy.
Nature is neither pleasant nor painful. It is all intelligence and beauty. Pain and pleasure are in the mind.
Until you dig a hole, you plant a tree, you water it and make it survive, you haven't done a thing. You are just talking.
Nature always springs to the surface and manages to show what she is. It is vain to stop or try to drive her back. She breaks through every obstacle, pushes forward, and at last makes for herself a way.
The method of nature: who could ever analyze it?
If civilization is to survive, it must live on the interest, not the capital, of nature.
Bear in mind that the children of life are the children of joy; that the lower animals are only unhappy when made so by man; that man alone of all the creatures, has "found out many inventions", the chief of which appears to be the art of making himself miserable, and of seeing all Nature stained with that dark and hateful colour.
And this, our life, exempt from public haunt, finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks, sermons in stones, and good in everything.
The woods were made for the hunters of dreams, The brooks for the fishers of song; To the hunters who hunt for the gunless game The streams and the woods belong.
I am comforted by life's stability, by earth's unchangeableness. What has seemed new and frightening assumes its place in the unfolding of knowledge. It is good to know our universe. What is new is only new to us.
Thou fool! Nature alone is antique, and the oldest art a mushroom; that idle crag thou sittest on is six thousand years of age.
Out of the long list of nature’s gifts to man, none is perhaps so utterly essential to human life as soil.
The tree which moves some to tears of joy is in the eyes of others only a green thing that stands in the way. Some see nature all ridicule and deformity... and some scarce see nature at all. But to the eyes of the man of imagination, nature is imagination itself.
Oh Beautiful for smoggy skies, insecticided grain, For strip-mined mountain's majesty above the asphalt plain. America, America, man sheds his waste on thee, And hides the pines with billboard signs, from sea to oily sea.
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