“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.”

The mountains are calling and I must go.

I have never yet happened upon a trace of evidence that seemed to show that any one animal was ever made for another as much as it was made for itself.

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.