“Mountains are our Holy Land, and we ought to saunter through them reverently, not ‘hike’ through them.”

The soft light of morning falls upon ripening forests of oak and elm, walnut and hickory, and all Nature is thoughtful and calm.

It seems supernatural, but only because it is not understood.

We all travel the Milky Way together, trees and men.

As if nothing that does not obviously make for the benefit of man had any right to exist; as if our ways were God’s ways.

The wrongs done to trees, wrongs of every sort, are done in the darkness of ignorance and unbelief, for when the light comes, the heart of the people is always right.

This time it is real – all must die, and where could mountaineer find a more glorious death!

To the lover of wilderness, Alaska is one of the most wonderful countries in the world.

Between every two pines is a doorway to a new world.

In God’s wildness lies the hope of the world.

Everybody needs beauty, places to play in and pray in where nature may heal and cheer and give strength to the body and soul alike.

Writing is like the life of a glacier; one eternal grind.

Yet how hard most people work for mere dust and ashes and care, taking no thought of growing in knowledge and grace, never having time to get in sight of their own ignorance.

Everything in Nature called destruction must be creation-a change from beauty to beauty.

In our best times everything turns into religion, all the world seems a church and the mountains altars.

Thousands of tired, nerve-shaken, over-civilized people are beginning to find out that going to the mountains is going home; that wildness is a necessity

I am learning to live close to the lives of my friends without ever seeing them. No miles of any measurement can separate your soul from mine.

Suddenly I was staying there and hiking there, and we took a mini iceberg out of the water and chipped it up and used it as ice cubes and made cocktails with it. It’s surreal.

Bald as the bare mountain tops are bald, with a baldness full of grandeur.

Nothing truly wild is unclean.

Nothing truly wild is unclean.

Walk away quietly in any direction and taste the freedom of the mountaineer.

The mountains are calling and I must go.

Climb the mountains and get their good tidings.

Going to the mountains is going home.