“Autumn comes to the sea with a fresh blaze of phosphorescence, when every wave crest is aflame. Here and there the whole surface may glow with sheets of cold fire, while below schools of fish pour through the water like molten metal.”

The more clearly we can focus our attention on the wonders and realities of the universe about us, the less taste we shall have for destruction.

In nature nothing exists alone.

If there is poetry in my book about the sea, it is not because I deliberately put it there, but because no one could write truthfully about the sea and leave out the poetry.

Drink in the beauty and wonder at the meaning of what you see.

Beginnings are apt to be shadowy.

Those who love and free nature are never alone.

Then the song of a whitethroat, pure and ethereal, with the dreamy quality of remembered joy.

We still talk in terms of conquest. We still haven’t become mature enough to think of ourselves as only a tiny part of a vast and incredible universe.

To understand the living present, and the promise of the future, it is necessary to remember the past.

Those who contemplate the beauty of the earth find reserves of strength that will endure as long as life lasts.

A child’s world is fresh and new and beautiful, full of wonder and excitement. It is our misfortune that for most of us that clear-eyed vision, that true instinct for what is beautiful, is dimmed and even lost before we reach adulthood.

The real wealth of the Nation lies in the resources of the earth – soil, water, forests, minerals, and wildlife.

Beginnings are apt to be shadowy and so it is the beginnings of the great mother life, the sea.

The discipline of the writer is to learn to be still and listen to what his subject has to tell him.

It is not half so important to know as to feel.

For all at last return to the sea- to Oceanus, the ocean river, like the ever-flowing stream of time, the beginning and the end.

Every leaf speaks bliss to me, fluttering from the autumn tree.

Aprils have never meant much to me, autumns seem that season of beginning, spring.

The old church tower and garden wall Are black with autumn rain And dreary winds foreboding call The darkness down again.

I cannot endure to waste anything as precious as autumn sunshine by staying in the house. So I spend almost all the daylight hours in the open air.

There is a harmony in autumn, and a luster in its sky, which through the summer is not heard or seen, as if it could not be, as if it had not been!

I am a child of autumn: At home amongst things that only know of falling.

Autumn nights carry the most colourful dreams through the empty woods.

Let autumn be proof that change is a beautiful thing even tho it can be hard to see at first.