The sun shines and the stars, and new beauty meets us at every step in all our wanderings.
When we try to pick out anything by itself, we find it hitched to everything else in the universe.
All the world was before me and everyday was a holiday, so it did not seem important to which of the world’s wildernesses I first should wander.
When one plants a tree they plant themselves. Every root is an anchor, over which one rests with grateful interest, and becomes sufficiently calm to feel the joy of living.
No wonder he sings well, since all the air about him is music; every breath he draws is part of a song, and he gets his first music lesson before he is born; for the eggs vibrate in time with the tones of the waterfalls. Bird and stream are inseparable, songful and wild, gentle and strong…
Indeed, some of the days I have spent alone in the depths of the wilderness have shown me that immortal life beyond the grave is not essential to perfect happiness, for these diverse days were so complete there was no sense of time in them, they had no definite beginning or ending, and formed a kind of terrestrial immortality.
How many notice so glorious a phenomenon as the rising of the sun over a familiar landscape? All that is necessary to make any landscape visible and therefore impressive is to regard it from a new point of view, or from the old one with our heads upside down.
Or, choked on the sediment of society, so tired of the world, here will your hard doubts disappear, your carnal instructions melt off, and your soul breath deep and free in God’s shoreless atmosphere of beauty and love.
Presently you lose consciousness of your own separate existence: you blend with the landscape, and become part and parcel of nature.
A thousand thousand voices are heard, but so finely blended they seem a part of the night itself, and make a deeper silence. And how grandly do the great logs and branches of your campfire give forth the heat and light that during their century-long lives they have so slowly gathered from the sun, storing it away in beautiful dotted cells and beads of amber gum.
We all travel the milky way together, trees and people; but it never occurred to me until this storm-day, while swinging in the wind, that trees are travelers, in the ordinary sense.
At the touch of this divine light the mountains seem to kindle to a rapt religious consciousness, and stand hushed like worshippers waiting to be blessed. Then suddenly comes darkness and the stars.