“One must labor for beauty as for bread.”

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.

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.