“One must labor for beauty as for bread.”

Anyhow we never know where we must go, nor what guides we are to get – people, storms, guardian angels, or sheep.

Raindrops blossom brilliantly in the rainbow, and change to flowers in the sod, but snow comes in full flower direct from the dark, frozen sky.

And into the forest I go, to lose my mind and find my soul.

Nature’s peace will flow into you as sunshine flows into trees.

Go quietly, alone; no harm will befall you.

Few places in this world are more dangerous than home.

All the world was before me and every day was a holiday, so it did not seem important to which one of the world’s wildernesses I first should wander.

Climb the mountains and get their good tidings.

The galling harness of civilization drops off, and wounds heal ere we are aware.

Go where we will, all the world over, we seem to have been there before.

Yet through all this stress the forest is maintained in marvelous beauty.

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

The power of imagination makes us infinite.

Going to the mountains is going home.

The deeper the solitude the less the sense of loneliness, and the nearer our friends.

It is always interesting to see people in dead earnest, from whatever cause, and earthquakes make everybody earnest.

There’s something so powerful about being my own gorgeous, beautiful, individual, unique self.

I think having land and not ruining it is the most beautiful art that anybody could ever want to own.

Life sucks, but in a beautiful kind of way.

Beautiful creature its time to forgive yourself you were surviving.

Imagine how beautiful life would be spent if we spent it lost in moments rather than memories.

I discovered that if one looks a little closer at this beautiful world, there are always red ants underneath.

I look around and see all the beauty that is possible – all the beauty we can make. Together.

She was only a collection of flaws and she was beautiful.