“Night is coming on and I am filled with indescribable loneliness. Felt feverish; bathed in a black, silent stream.”

If people in general could be got into the woods, even for once, to hear the trees speak for themselves, all difficulties in the way of forest preservation would vanish.

Take me into the mountains.

God has cared for these trees, saved them from drought, disease, avalanches, and a thousand tempests and floods. But he cannot save them from fool.

Handle a book as a bee does a flower, extract its sweetness but do not damage it.

The sun shines not on us but in us.

We were glad, however, to get within reach of information.

The making of gardens and parks goes on with civilization all over the world, and they increase both in size and number as their value is recognized.

But we are governed more than we know, and most when we are wildest.

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

Society speaks and all men listen, mountains speak and wise men listen.

Let children walk with nature, let them see the beautiful blendings and communions of death and life.

Wander a whole summer if you can, time will not be taken from the sum of your life. Instead of shortening, it will definitely lengthen it and make you truly immortal.

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

Beauty beyond thought everywhere, beneath, above, made and being made forever.

How glorious a greeting the sun gives the mountains!

The clearest way into the Universe is through a forest wilderness.

A blank canvas is still better than a ruined painting.

As I comb my hair I find a grey one stands out among all blacks. I’m too like that grey hair, lonely among familiar faces.

We judge on the basis of what somebody looks like, skin color, whether we think they’re beautiful or not. That space on the Internet allows you to converse with somebody with none of those things involved.

I’m glad that young black people are successful with the music. I’m not a hater.

Where there are people, there’s power.

I shed skin after skin, seeking my true colors, expecting a rainbow or a stripe of black, but all I get are maps of red. We are all human underneath.

Obviously black matches with everything.

The systen is not broken. It was built this way.