“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.”

There is no drop of water in the ocean, not even in the deepest parts of the abyss, that does not know and respond to the mysterious forces that create the tide.

Conservation is a cause that has no end. There is no point at which we will say our work is finished.

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.

Only within the moment of time represented by the present century has one species — man — acquired significant power to alter the nature of the world.

The years of early childhood are the time to prepare the soil.

A child’s world is fresh and new and beautiful, full of wonder and excitement.

Nowhere on the shore is the relation of a creature to its surroundings a matter of a single cause and effect; each living thing is bound to its world by many threads, weaving the intricate design of the fabric of life.

By suggestion and example, I believe children can be helped to hear the many voices about them. Take Time to listen and talk about the voices of the earth and what they mean-the majestic voice of thunder, the winds, the sound of surf or flowing streams.

Nature reserves some of her choice rewards for days when her mood may appear to be somber.

Have we fallen into a mesmerized state that makes us accept as inevitable that which is inferior or detrimental, as though having lost the will or the vision to demand that which is good?

But man is a part of nature, and his war against nature is inevitably a war against himself.

The question is whether any civilization can wage relentless war on life without destroying itself, and without losing the right to be called civilized.

As crude a weapon as a cave man’s club, the chemical barrage has been hurled against the fabric of life.

If a child is to keep alive his inborn sense of wonder, he needs the companionship of at least one adult who can share it, rediscovering with him the joy, excitement, and mystery of the world we live in.

It is a curious situation that the sea, from which life first arose, should now be threatened by the activities of one form of that life. But the sea, though changed in a sinister way, will continue to exist: the threat is rather to life itself.

One way to open your eyes is to ask yourself, “What if I had never seen this before? What if I knew i would never see it again?

Now I begin to be a disciple. Let fire and cross, flocks of beasts, broken bones, dismemberment come upon me, so long as I attain to Jesus Christ.

We begin to find and become ourselves when we notice how we are already found, already truly, entirely, wildly, messily, marvelously who we were born to be.

Begin to listen to what you say. Don’t say anything that you don’t want to become true for you.

When the air begins to turn colder, a warmth grows in my core that says – it’s time to start new.

Prayer begins by talking to God, but it ends by listening to Him. In the face of Absolute Truth, silence is the soul’s language.

An affirmation opens the door. It’s a beginning point on the path to change.

When the leaves begin to fall, I find myself returning to old playlists in hopes that I can feel you holding my hand, or kissing me goodnight, or hear you singing my name into songs and blueing when it makes no sense.

Exactly at the instant when hope ceases to be reasonable it begins to be useful.