“Of all the paths you take in life, make sure a few of them are dirt.”

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!

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.

You think, You know them. And then, you know them.

You can’t build a strong connection to the one who is disconnect from himself.

If my eyes could show my soul,everyone would cry when they saw me smile.

What you’re trying to control is already controlling you.

Mold me into poetry. Make me flow beautifully and deep. Write me into rhythmic verses with silent words that make me weep. Paint me with emotions like a bleeding sunset on a shore.

Learn to let go of everything which already let go of you.

I want to fold you into my book, like a petal, so that you’d never leave.

Goats are used for sacrificial offerings and not lions.