“Earth has no sorrow that earth can not heal.”

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.

We are now in the mountains and they are in us, kindling enthusiasm, making every nerve quiver, filling every pore and cell of us.

I never saw a discontented tree.

One day’s exposure to mountains is better than a cartload of books.

So also there are tides and floods in the affairs of men, which in some are slight and may be kept within bounds, but in others they overmaster everything.

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!

Fools that will laugh on earth, most weep in hell.

How inscrutable and incomprehensible are the hidden works of Nature!

Perhaps we’ve never been visited by aliens because they have looked upon earth and decided there’s no sign of intelligent life.

Nothing ever gets anywhere. The earth keeps turning round and gets nowhere. The moment is the only thing that counts.

The plant kingdom covers the entire earth, offering our senses great pleasure and the delights of summer.

Quietly they moved down the calm and sacred river that had come down to earth so that its waters might flow over the ashes of those long dead, and that would continue to flow long after the human race had, through hatred and knowledge, burned itself out.

One of the most frightening things in the Western world, and in this country in particular, is the number of people who believe in things that are scientifically false. If someone tells me that the earth is less than 10,000 years old, in my opinion he should see a psychiatrist.

We live in the flicker — may it last as long as the old earth keeps rolling! But darkness was here yesterday.